


Adjectives Assemble

by SugarFey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, The Author Regrets Nothing, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha wants to find that rare edition of <i>The Master and Margarita</i> before her rival at the Russian language bookstore does. Kate is distracted by the cute barista next door. Carol and Jessica dance around each other. Maria just wants to keep her business afloat without being bothered by pesky police officers or high school art teachers, no matter how polite they may be.</p><p>Another average day at Adjectives Assemble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a sudden need to write a bookshop AU, and this is the result. Rating is subject to change and more characters might show up as the story continues. Characterisation-wise this is a fusion of Marvel 616 and MCU, so Natasha, Maria, Clint and Steve are more inspired by their movie counterparts.
> 
> Many thanks to Enigma731 for the beta, Samalander and Latenightcuppa for cheerleading, and last but not least, Frea_O for making this amazing graphic!
> 
>  

If the landlord did not send someone to fix the air conditioner within the next thirty minutes, Maria Hill was going to stage a one-woman revolution. Being stuck in a tiny windowless room with very little space to move was hard enough at decent temperature.

“Kate,” she said to the young woman standing next to her desk, “could you get me an iced coffee please. With cream.”

Kate Bishop hesitated. “You said to never bring cream within an inch of your coffee or I’d sort encyclopaedias for a month.”

“Well, today I want cream.” Maria forced herself to smile despite her headache. “Or better yet, ice cream.”

“Ice cream is good,” Kate agreed, trying to balance the heavy stack of books she was carrying.

“Anything for you, Natasha?” Maria asked when short red haired woman entered the office, absorbed in her smartphone.

“Banana smoothie,” Natasha replied absently, sitting down at her desk at the other end of the room and opening her laptop. Natasha didn’t drink coffee, a fact Maria found inexplicable.

“Ask Carol and Jessica if they want anything,” Maria instructed, and Kate bustled off.

“How are the special orders coming along?”

Natasha sighed. “I’ve got the copy of _Bleak House_ that Miss Potts wanted, but I’m still looking for the first edition _Master and Margarita.”_ She pursed her lips. “I will find it.”

“Belova’s looking for it too?” Maria asked slyly.

Natasha snapped out her paper folding fan and waved it furiously in front of her face, which was all the answer Maria needed. The rivalry between Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova from the Russian language bookshop across town was legendary. Something about an incident during their college days.

The telephone’s sudden ringing felt like drilling in her skull, and Maria winced as she moved to answer it. “Adjectives Assemble, how may I… The electrician isn’t coming until this afternoon? We’re melting. The customers are melting. This is unacceptable.”

Across the room, Natasha looked up questioningly. Maria frowned in her direction. “I understand that these things take time, but I’m trying to run a business here. Yes… I’ll look into some alternatives and get back to you. Have a nice day.” Maria tried not to let the phone fall into heavily back into the cradle. Sighing, she rested her elbows on the desk and rubbed her temples. “The A.C won’t be fixed until the afternoon.”

“You can’t hire someone else?”

Maria shook her head. “Nat, you know we don’t have the funds for that.”

“Well then,” Natasha commented as she typed away at her laptop. “I hope the Roost has enough ice cream.”

“Hmm,” Maria acknowledged, getting up from her desk and navigating her way between the carefully stacked books on the floor and files threatening to tip off her desk in the direction of the door.

The shop was cooler than her cramped, windowless office. Maria prided herself on the interior décor. Shelves lined the walls up to the ceiling with tall shelves on the floor creating a network of aisles, each labelled by genre. The floor was made of narrow wooden boards that creaked ever so slightly when someone applied their weight. Maria believed all good bookshops should have floorboards that creaked. The large windows boasted a half-finished display of American classics, and Maria frowned.  That display should have been completed. Where was…

“Jess, did you seriously rearrange the books by _colour?”_

Ah.

“They’re art books! It’s, you know, artistic,” Jessica called back.

“How are people supposed to find anything now?” Carol Danvers emerged from between the tall shelves, closely followed by the hopeful artist, Jessica Drew.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a low voice said behind Maria. She turned to see a tall, well-built blond man wearing a collared shirt and a shy smile. “I’m looking for the biography on Monet that came out this week.”

“Right. Our organisation got sacrificed in the name of artistic expression, so if you’d like to follow me…”

Maria turned towards the shelves just as Natasha emerged from the back room. The man looked surprised for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgement. “Hello, Natasha.”

Natasha raised one elegant eyebrow. “Steve.”

“You know each other?”

Natasha placed some books onto the front counter. “I knew a friend of his.” She gestured between them. “Maria Hill, Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms…” Steve looked hesitant.

“Maria, please,” Maria interjected quickly, deflecting any questions about her marital status. “You were after the new Monet biography?”

“Right.” Steve actually blushed.

Jessica’s arrangement was indeed very pretty, but nigh impossible for a customer to navigate. Maria would need to have a word with her on How To Handle Boredom Responsibly. One did not own a bookshop without being able to locate something on a moment’s notice, but by the time Maria was accepting Steve’s payment, her headache had bypassed ‘mildly inconvenient’ and moved right on to ‘red alert.’

“Thanks,” Steve said when she presented the book and a receipt to him. “Say, do you know where I could find a good cup of coffee around here?”

“Well, there’s the Roost next door.”

“Roost?”

“The Coffee Roost. Owner loves birds. Good barista, though.”

“I’ll check it out.” Steve shifted his weight awkwardly. “I’m still getting to know this part of town.”

“Not from New York?”

“No, it’s more…” He trailed off. “I was away for a while.” His eyes dropped to the ground, and he held the book in front of him like a shield. “Anyway,” he said suddenly, like he had changed his mind, “I just started teaching at the high school, so I expect I’ll be back. Thanks for your help, ma’am.”

“It’s Maria,” she was about to say, but Steve was already halfway to the door. The bell on the doorframe tinkled as he left.

* * *

 

Kate stepped over the threshold to The Coffee Roost and was greeted with the smell of baking. She breathed in the scent as she pulled out her wallet containing the money from Maria. Adjectives Assemble was fuelled by caffeine and Kate was sent out to get the coffee orders at least three times a day, so she could recite everyone’s preferences by heart. Latte for Carol, mocha for Jessica, black for Maria and usually some sort of tea for Natasha. If the whole law school thing didn’t work out Kate was convinced she would make a great personal assistant. She could imagine her resume now: “Kate Bishop, experienced at alphabetising, coffee collecting, and soothing stressed bosses. Can also throw darts like a pro.”

“Hey, Kate,” the blonde barista called from behind the counter. “We’re just about to bring out the cinnamon rolls.”

“Don’t tempt me, Cassie,” Kate laughed, feeling her chest lighten.

“I’ll put some aside for your lunch break,” Cassie replied conspiratorially, wiping her hands on her crisp white apron. Kate was always glad when her shifts coincided with Cassie’s. It was nice to chat to someone on the same ship, if not precisely the same boat.  “So, coffee run for the boss?”

“You guessed it. Except it’s iced coffee today. With cream.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“Oh, my words are truth.”

“So the A.C is still down for you guys then?”

“How did you guess?”

At that moment the kitchen doors swung open to reveal The Coffee Roost’s proprietor, Bobbi Morse, balancing a fully laden tray. “Second round already, Kate?” she asked, setting the tray down on one of the counters. A tantalising smell of cinnamon rose from the fresh buns. Bobbi cast an eye at the drink Cassie was preparing. “Is that for Hill?”

“It is,” Cassie said over her shoulder.

“With _cream?_ ”

“No A.C,” Kate explained. “Since yesterday.”

“Oh, well then,” Bobbi said distractedly, arranging the buns. “I don’t envy Hill that landlord. Cassie, when you’re done I’d like you to wipe the counters down, please.”

“Sure,” Cassie replied cheerily, pouring a latte. Kate winked at her and to Kate’s surprise, a faint blush rose on Cassie’s cheeks. “Uh, here you go,” she faltered, pushing across a cardboard tray filled with The Roost’s trademark pale yellow cups with a sketch of a mockingbird on the side.

It took a moment before Kate remembered that yes, payment was expected in exchange for beverages, and she almost dropped her wallet. She fished out the money hastily and left with the tray, her face burning.

_Okay, that was not the smoothest exit I have ever made._

The street outside was baking in the heat and it was a relief when Kate pushed open the glass door to Adjectives Assemble. Jessica was sitting behind the counter and Carol was finishing the window display, a slight sweat on her face.

“Kate, you life saver!” Jessica cried when Kate handed over the mocha. “Bring Carol a drink, her hair’s about dissolve.”

“Very funny,” Carol muttered, standing. Her short blonde hair was gelled back into a faux-hawk that was indeed showing signs of drooping.

“That’s what you get for deciding to cut your hair on impulse.”

“It was a twenty-four hour hairdresser, I had to try it out.”

“Yeah, but I liked your hair.”

 Kate left Carol and Jessica to their bickering and pushed open the door to the office. Natasha was at her laptop and Maria was on the phone, speaking in hushed, harried tones. Natasha signalled for Kate to wait but she caught a few words anyway.

 “I understand the rental market, but raising the rates… I’ll come to your office tomorrow. Oh, I have words…” Maria slammed the phone down. “That bastard is raising the rent on us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who gave me feedback and kudos for the last chapter, it means the world to me!
> 
> Once again, thanks to Enigma731 for the beta!

Maria was on the roof, looking out over the city lights, when Natasha cleared her throat behind her. She turned to see Natasha waving a bottle. “I brought wine.”

Maria smiled. “Did you find my liquor cabinet?”

Natasha wandered over and set two glasses on the wall, uncorking the bottle. “I find everything, that’s why you pay me.” She handed Maria a glass of red wine and then seemed to be examining Maria’s face. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. No. _Fuck.”_ Maria rubbed her temples. “A rent raise could kill us.”

“Not yet.”

“Oh, come on, Natasha,” Maria scoffed. “You know the state our accounts are in. Today it seemed like an eternal line of bored NYU students who walk around and muck up the displays but don’t actually buy anything.”

Natasha shrugged. “Decline of print media. Rising student debt. For everything else, blame Amazon.”

“You’re not helping.”

“No,” Natasha conceded, “but the alcohol will.”

Maria drank deeply, then let out a sigh. “I can’t lose my business, Nat. I worked my ass off for the start up.”

“I know. You did sell some books today, though. Namely to an art teacher with a spectacular jaw.”

“How do you know Steve, really?” Maria asked to change the subject.

Natasha sipped elegantly at her glass before pronouncing, “I dated his best friend back in high school. I haven’t seen either of them in years.”

“Good or bad?”

“Started good, ended bad, as these things do. It was my first love.” Natasha smiled in the way that told Maria she would never hear the full story, not that Maria expected to. Natasha had her secrets, as did she. It was part of the reason they got along so well.

“Ah.”

“Yeah. But Steve’s a good guy.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “Natasha Romanoff, are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes. You met an attractive man and you haven’t been on a date in what, years?”

Maria laughed. “Let she who is not married to work cast the first stone, Miss ‘I Stay Up All Night To Find That Book.’”

Natasha raised her glass in a mock-toast. “I like the chase.”

Maria lifted her glass in response. “Here’s to work.”

 

* * *

 

Bobbi Morse always took the chance to wipe down all the surfaces after the morning rush at The Coffee Roost died down. Keeping a clean shop was compulsory anyway, and combined with Bobbi’s habits from her days in the lab, The Coffee Roost had to be the most hygienic café in town. You take pride where you can, and Bobbi’s pride lay in good coffee and tables so shiny she could see her reflection.

Oh, and hiring Cassie Lang. That was an excellent choice. Bobbi thought Cassie was a good candidate to take over the business when Bobbi went on vacation, since by the time Bobbi could afford to go away, Cassie would be in her thirties.

Chuckling, Bobbi washed her hands and was about to start making sandwiches when a familiar figure came into the café.

Bobbi sighed, but smiled when the man stepped up to the counter. “Hello, Clint.”

Her ex-husband nodded in acknowledgement. “Hey. Busy morning?”

He shifted his weight as Bobbi set her utensils aside. It had been five years since their divorce and things were good between them, but it was still often a little awkward when they started talking. Clint was dressed in his typical cheap dress pants and shirt, his tie off-centre and his sandy blonde hair just as scruffy as it was when Bobbi fell for him in tenth grade. Now it just gave her a momentary pang of nostalgia.

“I take it this is not a social call?” she asked, since he was obviously on the job.

“’Fraid not.”

Bobbi leant against the counter, resting her arms. “Out with it, then.”

“That bookshop next door, do you know the women who work there?” Clint asked, tipping his head to one side.

“Only as regular customers. They often send one of the casual staff in.”

Clint passed her a photograph. “What about this woman. Do you see her around a lot?”

Bobbi examined the photo, frowned, and handed it back. “Yeah, she’s been working there for a few years.”

“Ever seen her with anyone regularly?”

She chuckled. “Can’t help you there. I think she keeps to herself.” Bobbi shook her head. “There you go again, Clint, chasing after a girl way out of your league.”

“But…”

Bobbi rolled her eyes and said, not unkindly, “Clint, I was always out of your league.”

There was a flicker of sadness in his grey eyes and for a moment, Bobbi was reminded of the cocky foster kid all those years ago who used charm and bravado to disguise his loneliness. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You are.”

* * *

 

Natasha adored old books. She loved feeling the cracked spines, the smooth leather or rough cloth covers beneath her palms. _Discover my secrets,_ they whispered. _I have waited for you._ Natasha found them scattered across the globe like jewels. There was nothing that could stay hidden from her.

She carefully encased them in bubble wrap, making sure they were secure so she could post them to clients. She finished the last lot of wrapping and gathered the small pile of heavy parcels in her arms. “Kate,” she said as the left the office. “Could you run down to the post office with these, please? I need them sent as soon as possible.”

Kate nodded as she accepted the parcels, staggering slightly under the weight. Rare books were not easy on the arms.

Natasha took over from Jessica at the cash register just as the doorbell jingled and a man entered the shop. There was something about his stance that made Natasha examine him more closely. Clean shaven, spiked hair, with muscles that stretched his shirt. He looked out of place.

The man stepped up to the counter. “Natasha Romanoff?”

“Yes?”

He pulled out a badge. “I’m Detective Barton from the NYPD. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the latest chapter. Once again, thanks to Enigma731 for the beta.
> 
> I meant to include this in the last chapter but forgot, so here is another amazing graphic by Frea_O! This is the official logo of The Coffee Roost:
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing feedback on the last two chapters, I really appreciate it!

“Miss Romanoff, how long have you been working in the book trade?”

Natasha rested her hands on the table as she met Detective Barton’s gaze. “Three years.”

“And in that time you’ve established a sophisticated clientele,” Barton observed, flipping through a folder in front of him. He had removed his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Police interrogation rooms must be as uncomfortable for the detectives as they were for the suspects.

Natasha replied, “I’m very good at my job.”

Barton leaned back in his chair, surveying her. “You must deal with a lot of people every day.”

“So would you.”

Barton looked unimpressed. “It says here you have a Masters in Russian Literature from Columbia.”

“Yes.”

“And yet you work in a bookstore.”

Natasha gave him an incredulous glance. “Do you know how hard it is to get a job with a Masters in Russian Literature?”

“Did you begin your contacts through the university?”

Natasha crossed her legs, glad she had chosen a particularly pretty blue dress to wear that morning. If you were going to be interrogated at a police station, it helped to look your best. “I’ll ask again, Detective Barton. What is this about?”

“Have you have dealt with a man named Sergei Petrov?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“He’s a big figure in the antique trade, and I understand it must be frustrating when items are more… difficult to find on the open market.”

Natasha cocked her head. “Detective Barton, do you think I’m an idiot?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. “Err, no.”

“Then why would I be stupid enough to risk my job, my reputation and my freedom to get hold of a book? Am I being charged with anything?”

Barton watched her for a moment, like he was planning his next move. “No.”

“Then I think I’ll leave. Have a nice day, Detective,” Natasha finished, smiling sweetly as she stood up from her chair.

“Wait.” Barton reached into his pocket and produced a business card. “If you can think of anything to do with Petrov, please give me a call.”

* * *

 

Carol was sorting shelves in the science fiction and fantasy section when the bell above the door jingled. Placing _The_ _City of Saints and Mad Men_ back on the shelf, she walked out from the aisles to find a tall man in an expensive business suit inspecting the counter display with a look of cool assessment.

“Can I help you?” Carol asked, wearing her best customer service face. Something about this man did not feel quite right.

The man looked up. He had piercing blue eyes and the amount of gel in his hair was excessive even by Carol’s standards. His face spread into a smile, but it was not a kind one. “You must be Carol Danvers,” he purred, spreading his hands. “I am Loki Odinson.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Carol lied. How did this complete stranger know her name? The shop felt suddenly cold. “Are you after anything specific?”

“Yes. I want to speak to Maria Hill.”

“She’s in her office. Can I ask what this is regarding?”

Odinson shook his head. “I would prefer to discuss it in private, Carol.”

Carol resisted the urge to fold her arms. Bad vibes or not, she was a professional. “Jess,” she called.

Jessica stuck her head around one of the shelves, her eyes widening as she saw the man in the suit. “What is it?”

“Can you see if Maria is free, please,” Carol answered, not taking her eyes off Odinson. “Loki Odinson wants to discuss something with her.”

Jessica practically ran behind her towards the office. Carol stayed standing in front of Odinson, her face perfectly still. Moments later Jessica reappeared, followed closely by Natasha. “Miss Hill will see you now,” Natasha spoke crisply.

Odinson bowed his head when he walked past her. “Thank you for your help, Carol.”

“It’s Miss Danvers,” Carol replied before the office door closed behind him.

Jessica rushed up to her once the door was shut. “That guy is creepy,” she hissed under her breath. “What did he want?”

“No idea.” Carol shook herself to try to be rid of her unease. “I think I’ll need a drink after work.”

Jessica clasped her hand, just for a moment. “You have the best ideas.”

* * *

 

Jessica spotted Carol’s pale blonde hair the moment she pushed open the door to the bar. “Hey,” she greeted, smiling as she walked up to Carol’s booth.

“Hey yourself.” Carol raised a beer glass in her direction. She was wearing her favourite black leather bomber jacket, which suited her but seemed an odd choice for a summer evening in a poorly ventilated hole in the wall bar.

“Nice jacket, you must be dying,” Jessica remarked.

Carol scowled. “No, I’m not.”

Jessica would never fail to be amazed by Carol’s capacity for stubbornness. “Carol, you can see the air in here.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sweating like a pig, but never mind.” Jessica ordered a beer from a passing waiter and brushed her hair out of her face. She saw Carol’s eyes follow the movement of her hand.

“You look nice,” Carol said.

Jessica blushed, smoothing her cherry red dress. “You look hot.”

Carol smirked and Jessica wanted to crawl under the table in shame. “I meant hot as in warm! Not that you’re not the other hot, because you are, and I should stop talking.”

“Smooth, Jess,” Carol chuckled, raising her beer glass to her mouth. Foam stuck to her lip and she licked it off. “Anyway, what do you think of that greaseball coming in today?”

“Slimy.” Jess gave an exaggerated shudder. “I hope our fearless leader gave him hell. He sure didn’t look happy when he left.”

“Yeah, but neither did Maria.”

“That’s not so unusual lately,” Jessica sighed, cooling her hands on her glass. She had a lot of admiration for Maria Hill. She was a tough businesswoman who was passionate about protecting what she had, and an excellent boss. But in the eight months that Jessica had been working at Adjectives Assemble, Maria’s mood seemed to have darkened. It was not surprising given the state of bookshops these days, but Jessica still found it troubling.

Carol signalled for another beer. “Whatever it is, we’ll find out soon enough. In the mean time, cheers!”

A few beers later and Jessica was feeling pleasantly drunk when they finally decided to walk home.

“No really,” Carol was saying, taking such long strides that Jessica had to rush to keep up with her. “Angel is great and all, but he’s a dick who pretends he’s not a dick. At least Spike is proud of his dickishness.”

“I don’t think that’s an admirable trait,” Jessica retorted. Angel versus Spike was an age-old debate and she was determined to win this time.

“No, but it’s funny.”

“Angel can be funny!”

“Only if he’s the butt of the joke.”

Jessica threw up her hands. “This is a ridiculous argument. Faith is the coolest character in the Buffyverse.”

“Aha!” Carol nudged Jessica with her elbow. “You just said Faith was cool and she rocks a leather jacket in California.”

“It’s better when she takes it off.”

“Really? When she can do this awesomeness in it?” Carol struck a pose that was an approximation of a vampire slayer wielding a stake.

“You’d be cooler without it. In more ways than one.”

Carol threw an arm around Jessica’s shoulders. “Jess, your puns are terrible.”

“I dare you to do better.” She meant it as a joke, but Jessica’s voice sounded huskier than she intended.

Carol stopped in the light of a streetlamp, grinning broadly. “I’m hotter with this jacket, you said so yourself.”

Jessica’s heart fluttered, not for the first time. “Wow,” she commented, trying to distract from her rising blush. “Your puns really are worse than mine.”

Carol’s hand came up to brush a lock of hair from Jessica’s face. “You know me,” she breathed. “I never turn down a challenge.”

“I…” Jessica could not find the words. Something in the spaces between them had shifted, like an electric charge. It had happened before, when they were sitting on Carol’s couch watching movies and Jessica leant too close or when Carol convinced her to go dancing, but it was never quite like this. “Just… take off the jacket, Carol.”

Carol slid her arms around Jessica’s waist, murmuring, “Make me.”

Jessica would never be sure who started the kiss first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the new chapter! Thanks to Enigma731 for the beta and thanks to everyone who has left feedback so far, I really appreciate it!

Jessica woke to the unmistakable yowling of a catfight that tore through her hung over brain.

“Chewie!” the figure beside her groaned, stumbling out of bed towards the door.

Carol.

Naked Carol.

Naked Carol and Carol’s bed.

_Oh God._

Carol returned a moment later, rubbing her hands through her tangled hair. She stopped when she spotted Jessica. “Am I…?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Are you…?”

Jessica glanced under the blanket. “It appears so.”

“Fuck.” Carol scrambled around the floor, tugged on her discarded panties and grabbed a ragged looking t-shirt. She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Oh, it’s all coming back to me. The bar. The sex… Shit, I took a drunk girl home. I’m a bad, bad person.”

Jessica bristled. “We knew what we were doing.”

“Yeah, it’s just… sober would be better.”

“Would you rather not have done it?”

“What? No. I mean, it was great. _You’re_ great. The circumstances could have been better, but…” Carol took a deep breath. “I’m not sorry it happened.”

Jessica dared to smile. “Me neither.”

They might have sat there grinning goofily at each other until Carol broke the silence.

“So, uh… do you want pancakes?”

“Sure.”

Jessica lay back against the pillows as Carol left the room, trying to process the situation in her foggy mind.

Item 1: Carol was her best friend.

Item 2: Jessica had had a crush on Carol for ages.

Item 3: Last night they’d had amazing sex.

Item 4: Jessica still had no idea where that left them.

It was a lot to take in. Cringing against her headache, Jessica heaved herself out of the bed and fished around for her clothes. She pulled on her panties (black lace, Jessica was glad she happened to choose those yesterday) and then paused, holding her red wrap dress that she found crumpled near the foot of the bed. Fuck it. Carol had already seen everything. Jessica settled on slipping the black tank top she had worn underneath over her head, tugging it down.

Clothes sorted, Jessica focused on her surroundings for the first time. Carol’s room was small, with the double bed and its pale blue sheets taking up most of the space. The large window looked out onto a busy Brooklyn street, and Jessica was suddenly grateful for the paper blinds. She located a bottle of water on the bedside table and unscrewed the cap, drinking deeply before crawling back under the blanket. Uncertainty or no, Jessica would never turn down free breakfast in bed.

The pancakes, when they arrived, smelled heavenly.

Jessica accepted her plate while Carol turned on the TV and flicked through the channels. They settled on a rerun of _X-Men: The Animated Series._

“So Chewie has a friend?” Jessica asked during the commercial break, attempting to ward off an awkward silence.

Carol rolled her eyes. “More like mortal enemy. My neighbour moved away and can’t take his cat, so I said I’d take him. They’ve been fighting ever since. I think I need to make other arrangements.”

“Poor Chewie.”

“Are you kidding? Chewie starts the fights. Wins them too.”

Jessica’s fork was almost at her mouth when she started giggling uncontrollably. Here she was, in bed with the girl she had been crazy about for months, and they were sharing cat anecdotes. She was still laughing when syrup dripped from her raised fork, landing on her exposed clavicle.

The drop of syrup rolled down over Jessica’s skin and Carol’s eyes followed the movement.

Jessica felt her pulse rise from the heat of Carol’s gaze on her. “Something wrong?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Carol was still staring at the syrup that was now sliding over the curve of Jessica’s breast. “Um,” Carol managed, her tongue flicking over her lips. “You going to clean that up?”

Jessica made a show of looking nonchalant. “Are you going to help?”

Carol’s face broke into a grin and she slowly bent down until she could trace the sticky path of the syrup with her lips, followed by the tip of her tongue. Jessica sucked in a breath at the sensation, her plate slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor.

Carol’s fingers played with the hem of Jessica’s shirt. “Sure you’re up for this?”

Jessica answered by dragging her into a kiss. 

 

* * *

 

Finding a fat, fluffy tabby cat purring happily on her desk did nothing to improve Maria’s mood, and there could only be one culprit.

_“Carol!”_

The blonde in question stuck her head around the door. “Yes, Maria?” she asked, looking entirely too innocent.

“Explain to me why there is a cat on my desk.”

“He fought with Chewie,” Carol stated, as if that explained everything.

Maria said nothing.

“Chewie’s my cat,” Carol added helpfully.

Maria struggled to keep her voice calm. “That doesn’t explain why this cat is currently on my desk.”

“Well, he needs a home, and he can’t stay with me, so I was going to ask you if he could stay here, just until I find a better place for him. He can be like a mascot!” Carol insisted, gesticulating wildly. “It’ll be cute!”

“Cute.” Maria sighed heavily, looking down at the cat, who was now rolling on his back, showing off his white belly. “I don’t know, Carol…”

“It’ll just be for a few days, I promise.”

Maria did not have the energy to resist. “Fine. You provide food and whatever else he needs, and if he makes a mess even once…”

Carol nodded. “No problem. Uh… his name is Asimov.”

“Of course it is,” Maria said slowly, not believing for a moment that this was the cat’s original name. Outside she heard the faint jangle of the doorbell and Carol shot her an apologetic glance before disappearing, leaving Maria with her impromptu pet.

“Okay, Asimov,” she muttered, fists on hips. “Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Asimov yawned widely, showing off his pink tongue and impressive canines, before curling up on Maria’s laptop.

“Great.”

 

* * *

 

“Double espresso and a cream cheese bagel please, Bobbi,” Maria announced when she finally made it to the front of the line at the Roost. The tiny coffee shop was always packed at lunchtime. Normally Maria would grab something to go and eat in her office, but she was in desperate need of some air. Bagels and espresso had been her comfort food of choice since senior year.

“Bad day?” Bobbi questioned.

“Not even close to the worst.”

Bobbi murmured something sympathetic as she handed Maria her change. Cassie placed a steaming ceramic espresso cup on the counter with a clink. Maria turned, cup in hand, and ran right into a solid wall of muscle. Coffee spilled all over the floor.

“Damn it, I’m so sorry…” Maria exclaimed. _Well, this day keeps getting better._

“It’s my fault, here, let me buy you another,” the man said hastily, and Maria looked up. Blond, neat shirt, great jaw. Steve Rogers, then. Maria could picture Natasha’s smirk.

“No, really…” she protested.

“It’s no trouble.” Steve looked closer at her. “Maria Hill, isn’t it? From the bookshop next door?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Maria huffed, realising too late that she sounded snappy.

Steve appeared concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Maria checked her temper. Steve was by all accounts a good guy, even if Natasha’s description of ‘human Golden Retriever’ was far from flattering. He didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of a Maria Hill Rampage. “Sorry, it’s been a rough day. Rough week, actually.”

Steve shrugged. “Tell me about it. This morning a twelve year old told me to do inappropriate things to a goat.”

Maria blinked. “Creative.”

“It is,” Steve answered mildly. “I was tempted to give him a pass for sheer guts.”

Maria laughed in spite of herself, and did not offer resistance when Steve ordered her an espresso along with his own coffee. Steve turned back to her once he had paid, his head tilted as he adjusted his shirt collar.

“Thank you,” Maria said quickly, accepting her coffee and taking care to hold on to it this time. She cast her eyes about the cafe for an empty table and spotted one near the door. It was also, she observed, the only space available.

“Would you mind sharing a table?” she asked Steve.

Steve seemed to falter, but then smiled warmly. “Sure.”

They made their way through the obstacle course of furniture and loud diners, and Maria could not wait to sit down and finally drink her coffee while she waited for her bagel. When they reached the table she placed the cup down as carefully as she could and sunk into the chair. She inhaled the aroma of espresso and drank a large gulp as Steve sat down.

“I have a cat,” she announced.

Steve, who had been raising his mug to his lips, paused in mid-motion. “Uh…”

“My employee gave me a cat. What am I supposed to do with a cat? I can’t keep a cat. Do you know how much vet fees cost?”

“Sure…” Steve trailed off, watching her carefully as if he wasn’t sure whether he should run.

“I can barely make a profit. The shop keeps me above water just enough, and now my bastard of a landlord wants to raise the rent on me.”

Steve stared. “I can see why you need coffee.”

“How was your day?” Maria challenged.

“Not much to tell. I just started my first teaching job.”

Maria sipped her life-giving espresso. Steve seemed a little old to be a newly minted teacher. “Mature age student?”

“Something like that. I was in the army before college.”

Maria tensed at the word ‘army.’ “Natasha said she knew you in high school,” she said instead, to change the subject.

Steve gave an embarrassed grin. “Well, I knew her when _she_ was in high school, but…”

“You and your friend were older,” she finished, her suspicions confirmed.

“A little.” Steve laughed. “Did she call me a Labrador yet?”

“Golden Retriever, in fact.” Maria felt her lips curve into a smile.

Over at the counter Cassie called out a number, and Steve raised his head. “That’s my sandwich,” he said, like an apology, and he held out his hand. “I have to get back to the school. But, um, maybe I’ll see you around?”

Maria shook his hand, half charmed by his politeness and half holding back her disbelief. “See you later.”

She watched as he picked up his sandwich, nodded in her direction and made his way out the door. Suddenly the day didn’t seem so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to check in with Natasha and Kate again! Big thank you shout out as always to my beta, Enigma731.

Ever since Adjectives Assemble opened, Natasha would open the shop on Saturday mornings to give Maria a chance to sleep in a little, in exchange for Natasha having Sundays off. She emerged from the subway station with her travel mug of English Breakfast tea in one hand and her phone in the other so there was no chance of her missing a call from a contact in the book trade. The early morning before there were many customers in the shop was the best time to get a lot of her special orders out of the way.

The shop was only a short walk from the subway and once she had opened it up for business, Natasha set up her laptop at the counter and settled in for a blissfully quiet half hour before the others arrived.

She sipped her tea and was about to check her emails when to her surprise, the doorbell chimed. Natasha looked up and came face to face with Detective Barton.

“Detective,” she acknowledged, not getting up from her chair. “Is this a social call or am I being questioned again?”

Barton gave her a lopsided grin. His hair was messier than when Natasha had seen him last, he had rings under his eyes and his shirt looked like it needed changing. “Actually, I have a favour to ask. You speak Russian, right?”

“What gave it away, my last name or my degree?”

“Both. I came across some papers except they’re all in Russian and no one at the station speaks it. Since it’s my day off, I thought I’d ask you to have a look.”

This was not what she had expected. “Because I’m the only Russian speaker in New York,” she said pointedly.

Barton shrugged with one shoulder like he couldn’t care less. “Give me a break, I just finished a double shift and your shop is right around the corner.”

Natasha sighed. “Fine. I get off work at six. Meet me at Washington Square Park.”

 

* * *

 

Kate knew she had been a bit too ambitious when a stack of books toppled out of her hands.

“Crap,” she swore under her breath. That was what she got for not using a trolley. Attempting to juggle too many things only to have them tumble at her feet felt like a sadly apropos metaphor for her life. The universe had a nasty sense of humour.

Kate crouched down to order the books into a pile. Time to admit defeat and find that damn trolley with the squeaky wheel. She made sure the three copies of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ were at the top of the pile. Maybe a child would come and relieve her of the heaviest books of the lot.

Stretching out her sore back, Kate made for the office door. She could hear raised voices coming from the office, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the tone made her pause before she could open the door fully.

“Well, we have the summer sale coming up in a few weeks,” Natasha was saying. “That usually gives us a good boost.”

“Yes, but that’s a temporary solution at best,” Kate heard Maria reply. Kate pushed the door open a crack so she could catch a glimpse into the office. She could just make out Maria, who had her back turned and was absently scratching the ears of a purring tabby cat. “If we’re not doing better by the time the lease is up, we’re fucked.”

The cat- Asimov, Kate remembered- leapt off the table and ran towards the door, and Kate had to jump back before Maria could look over her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Cassie would sometimes join Kate when their lunchbreaks coincided, and they went up to the roof when the weather was fine. Kate tipped her head back as she drank her Coke, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face.

“You seem quiet,” Cassie observed, unwrapping her sandwich.

“Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Schoolwork?” Cassie asked in between mouthfuls. “I could never do pre-law. Must be tough.”

Kate sighed, letting her head fall back until it rested against the concrete wall. “Yeah, it is. I’m starting to wonder if law school is the right thing for me.”

“Why did you decide on it in the first place?”

Kate had been asking that herself. What had been her real goal when she applied to NYU against her family’s wishes? “I thought I could make a difference. Human rights law, you know? My dad wants me to do corporate law, but that’s over my dead body.”

Cassie laughed. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No, it’s… something weird I saw today.” Kate worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she replayed the conversation between Maria and Natasha in her mind.

“Go on,” Cassie prompted.

“I overheard Maria and Natasha talking. Maria said something about the lease, and being fucked. Not in the good way, either.”

Cassie paused mid-sandwich. “Shit. Do you know if they’ve got financial problems?”

“Who knows. I always thought we were doing okay.” She rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I hope not. Finding a new job is a bitch and I actually like this place. It’s close to my dorm and the people are nice.”

“Yeah,” Cassie agreed shyly. “I hope it works out for you guys. I like spending my lunch with someone.”

 

 

* * *

 

Barton was waiting on the bench as arranged when Natasha made it to Washington Square Park. He looked more rested than he had that morning, and he had shaved and was wearing a clean t-shirt. Natasha smiled to herself as she walked up to him.

“Detective Barton,” she greeted, and he looked up, startled, as if he had been deep in thought.

“Uh, hey,” he said, standing. “I didn’t see you.” His brow creased into a frown but it was gone in an instant, like a trick of the light. “Thanks for coming by.” Barton motioned towards the bench, and did not sit back down again until Natasha was seated.

“What did you want me to translate, Detective?” Natasha asked, placing her handbag on her knees and brushing a free strand of hair behind her ear. A breeze sent swirls of dry leaves and abandoned candy wrappers swirling down the footpath, and the sky promised rain. Natasha hoped she could be home before it started.

“You can call me Clint when I’m off the clock,” he said with a smile. His eyes crinkled and he seemed a completely different man to when he had interviewed her at the police station, exuding an air of relaxed confidence rather than focused intensity. Natasha found herself wondering which version was the real man.

She ignored his comment. “The translation?” she prompted.

“Right.” Barton reached into his backpack and pulled out a photocopy.

"I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where you found this,” Natasha said, accepting the piece of paper.

“Not a chance.” He actually winked, playing up the boyish charm. Natasha resisted the urge to shake her head and cast her eyes of the paper in her hand.

A thin black line separated two columns of Cyrillic letters written in firm, thick pen. Natasha studied the words, noting the presence of ‘antique’ and ‘services.’

“This is basically a list,” she explained once she had finished reading. “One column is incoming products, the other outgoing.” Natasha pulled out a notepad from her handbag and began writing out the translation.

“Does it include any names or money exchanged?” Barton asked as she handed him the slip of paper.

“No. You’ll have to keep digging, Clint.” The name slipped out without her intention and Natasha wanted to wipe that triumphant smirk off his face. Not to be outdone, she moved to stand with deliberate slowness, allowing her body to lean forward and give him the tiniest hint of black lace peeping over the collar of her shirt. His eyes flicked towards it and she straightened immediately, eyebrow arched.

Clint met her gaze and took his time getting to his feet, holding her eyes until he was at his full height, nearly a head taller than her. “Will you translate for me if I find anything else?”

Well, wasn’t that interesting. Natasha slipped a hand inside her purse and brought out a crisp business card, her number printed in bold black letters. “You can come by and try your luck.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter took a bit longer, life got in the way. Thanks for sticking with me!

Natasha locked up the front door of the shop and walked back towards the office, turning off lights as she went. She found Maria in the office, bent over the accounts folder, illuminated by a single desk lamp.

“Okay,” Natasha announced, kicking the door closed. “We are going to go upstairs to your living room and then we are going to order pizza and you are going to tell me everything that went on between you and that Odinson guy.”

Maria looked pained as she rubbed her forehead. “Natasha…”

“I’ve known you for five years,” Natasha interrupted. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you this stressed. What’s going on?”

Maria dropped her pen onto the paper in front of her. “Okay. Meet me upstairs in ten minutes.”

* * *

 

Maria’s apartment was small, even smaller than Natasha’s apartment in Williamsburg, but it was comfortable and that was more than you could expect from a place in Manhattan. It was also, if possible, even messier than the office downstairs. Natasha moved a pile of books and magazines from a corner of the couch so she could sit down while she waited for Maria to order the pizza and start talking.

Maria had her back turned when she put her phone down on the kitchenette counter. Her shoulders formed a tense, hunched line, a harsh contrast to her normally military-straight posture. “The man who came to see me was Loki Odinson,” she began in clipped tones.

“Yes, I know,” Natasha prompted, moving to allow Asimov to jump up next to her.

“His father owns Asgard Books. He wanted to know if I’d be interested in selling the shop.”

Natasha took a deep breath. “Right.”

She got up from the couch and made a beeline for Maria’s liquor cabinet, located a half-full bottle of Jack, and set it down on the coffee table. “Get the glasses,” she ordered, voice grim.

Maria obeyed, her movements slow and mechanical. Her cramped shoulder blades moved apart as she reached up to a shelf, not quite unwinding, and the glasses rattled as she searched among them.

Eventually Maria sat down on the couch and Natasha unscrewed the bottle, pouring a small amount for herself and a bigger drink for Maria. Asimov, recognising the presence of his true object of affection, abandoned his corner of the couch and snuggled up to Maria’s side, leaving hair on Maria’s black blouse.

Natasha bit back a grin as she sat down and handed Maria a glass. “Drink. Then we keep talking.”

Maria downed her shot in one swallow and grimaced. “That’s awful. Why do I have this in my house?”

“The inner workings of your mind are a mystery to many.”

Regardless of taste, the bottle went round a few more times, conversation further interrupted by the arrival of the pizza.

Several slices later, Natasha felt full and more than a little tipsy, and she frowned as she propped her legs up on the coffee table. “This doesn’t make sense. The nearest Asgard store is three times the size of Adjectives. We’re no competition, unless…” she broke off, biting her lip. There was a piece of the puzzle missing.

Maria shrugged, gesturing with a pizza slice for emphasis. She was the picture of professionalism during work hours but give her alcohol and junk food and she turned into a slob. “Yeah, it’s odd. Weird timing, too.”

“Hmm…” Natasha nibbled her pizza thoughtfully.

“Oh no,” Maria said. “I know that look. You’re not going all corporate espionage on this.”

“That was one time!” Natasha protested. “My methods are much more subtle now.” Besides, she had needed to find out if Yelena was stealing her clients. That had been personal, this was business.

“Nat…”

“Fine.”

Maria closed the empty pizza box with a look of regret. “I’m setting up a meeting with Carlton. See if we can’t sort this rent situation out.”

“Ah, do give my regards to our landlord. He’s so fond of women who speak their mind,” Natasha quipped, smiling sweetly.

“He will listen to me.”

“Or?”

“I’ll threaten him with pliers.”

Maria was law abiding to a fault, but Natasha could not be entirely sure she was joking. Action needed to be taken. Setting down her glass, she faked a yawn. “I should get going. Good luck with the meeting.”

“Nat, whatever you’re planning, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Who said I was planning anything?”

Maria gave her a look that screamed “don’t sass me, child.”

Maria might believe in doing things strictly by the book, but Natasha preferred to know all the facts, no matter what it took to get them. Once she was outside in the courtyard, she took out her phone and dialled a number.

“Clint? It’s Natasha. I want to talk about something.”

* * *

 

Carol had five hours left on her shift. She was a professional.

She was not going to be distracted by…

…Long, long legs.

Long legs encased in tight jeans attached to one Jessica Drew.

_Focus, Carol._

_You’re at work._

_Eating someone out on a counter is unhygienic. Stop imagining it._

_Carol, this internal monologue is getting out of hand._

“Everything okay?”

Carol snapped out of her increasingly pleasant daydream. Maria stood in front of the counter, frowning.

Oh God. Had she been drooling? Carol tried not to wipe her chin. “Yes, everything’s fine.” She held up her roll of price tags. “Just getting books ready to go out.”

Maria still looked suspicious, but she kept walking past Carol towards the office. “All right then. Can you and Jess get the Modernist display done?” she called over her shoulder.

“Uh, sure.” Carol’s face burned. She was not entirely convinced that Maria was not, in fact, a mind reading superhero and if so, Carol had just been caught in the middle of a sex daydream by her boss. _Awkward._

Carol scowled down at the copy of _To the Lighthouse_ in front of her, muttering “It’s just you and me, Virginia.”

At that moment Maria reappeared, her hair pinned up and her black leather handbag flung over her shoulder. “I’m going out for a few hours,” she said hastily, her hand already on the front door handle. “Natasha’s minding the office.”

The door slammed, throwing the bell into disarray.

“Well,” Jessica said finally. “That was weird.”

“Order of the day, it seems.” Carol focused on the pile of books in front of her, hoping that Jessica’s legs, cleavage, everything really, would not come into her line of vision.

“She’s been stressed lately,” she heard Jessica continue. “Something’s going on.”

Someone in the next aisle coughed.

“Kate? What’s going on?”

Kate stepped out from between the shelves, wielding a spray bottle and a cloth. Carol wrinkled her nose at the strong lemony smell. “Nothing,” Kate stammered, her face breaking into the fakest grin in the world. “It’s nothing. Just thinking about an assignment.”

“Right,” Jessica answered slowly, disbelief creeping in her voice. Kate hesitated, washcloth threatening to fall from her fingers, before she turned and disappeared towards the back of the shop, trailing a cloud of lemon spray.

Carol watched her go. “That girl is a terrible liar.”

Jessica huffed. “I hate it when other people know more than me.” She had one hand on her hip, the other resting high on a shelf. The pale curves of her breasts peeped over the edge of her shirt, and Carol had to tear her eyes away.

Unfortunately, Natasha chose that moment to appear behind her, since somewhere between studying Russian literature she had learnt to be a ninja. Carol tried to cover up her jump.

“Carol,” Natasha remarked, “you’re sweating.”

_This shift will last forever._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I know I've been really inconsistent with responding to feedback, and I'm trying to work on that. Rest assured I do appreciate every single comment and kudos, they mean the world to me.
> 
> Thanks to Enigma731 for the beta!

Mr Carver had attempted to change the subject at least five times since Maria had entered his office, and she’d had just about enough of this meeting. “Can we please stick to the subject?” she said crisply. “I’d like to know why you’re raising the rent.”

Mr Carver spread his hands. “I’m sorry, Miss Hill, but with rent in New York being what it is, I have little choice.”

Maria folded her arms. If Carver wanted her to leave without answers, he would have to call security. “I did some research on prices in the surrounding area. The amount you’re asking is unreasonable.”

He kept shuffling the papers on his desk and shifting about in his seat, sweat beading on his bald forehead, and Maria smelt a rat. She learnt long ago to trust her instincts, and they were screaming at her now. Carver wasn’t just being evasive, he was anxious.

“Someone’s pressuring you,” she concluded, pieces falling into place in her mind. A rent rise and a nervous landlord just as someone started sniffing around her business. Maria felt a strong urge to kick people.

“Thank you for your time,” she said, letting ice creep into her voice.

She was going to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

 

It had not escaped Jessica’s attention that she and Carol spent a lot of time having sex and not a lot of time talking about it.

Not that she was complaining, the sex was mind-blowing and record smashing and everything she’d ever hoped it would be, but at some point it would be nice to have the “hey, are we actually dating now” conversation, if only to establish whether making out in the ladies’ room during a Star Wars Trivia Night was Carol’s idea of romance.

Jessica shoved a stack of books onto the shelf in frustration. She was trying to work on her tendency to overthink things, to always be on the lookout for the other shoe dropping, but twenty-five years worth of trust issues were hard to overcome.

In response, Jessica tried to think about her relationship with Carol as little as possible, in the hope that she could be happily in denial until things fell into place. Of course, this was easier said than done, and Jessica’s present state of distraction meant that she didn’t see Kate until she practically ran into the girl.

“I’m doing a coffee run,” Kate said, as if Jessica’s shock had not registered with her. “Can I get you anything?”

“One of the hot chocolate specials. With the cinnamon.” Jessica respected Bobbi Morse’s commitment to hot chocolate experimentation in the middle of summer and she aimed to try as many as possible.

“Got it!” Kate chirped, already on the way to the front door.

Carol, who had just finished serving a customer, turned her head to watch Kate go. She had her hair down today, and it caught the light. “Kate’s been unusually chipper lately,” she commented, one hand on her hip.

“I know. Either she’s plotting world domination or something’s up.”

Carol smirked and went back to sorting the pile of books in front of her. “Do you think she knows what’s going on with Maria?” she asked, giving a shiny copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ a look of disgust. Everyone hated having that book on the shelves, but damn if it didn’t sell.

“We could bribe her with chocolate and find out,” Jessica suggested.

“Jess, she’s not five.”

Jessica walked over to the counter and began to help Carol sorting the books. “What about money? She’s a student. Students don’t have money.”

“Her father’s loaded, I guarantee she has more money than us.”

“Fine,” Jessica gave in, throwing up her hands with a grin. “No stooping to nefarious methods.”

Carol propped her elbows on the counter, leaning in close until Jessica caught the faint scent of her lip gloss. “We could just ask Maria.”

Jessica felt her body move towards Carol’s like she was caught in a gravitational pull. “See, now you’re making too much sense.”

At that moment Maria burst through the front entrance, her face dark as a thunderstorm and a coffee clutched in her hand. She strode past Jessica and Carol as if she did not notice them, went right into her office and shut the door with a bang.

“Or we could ask her later.”

* * *

 

It turned out Clint lived in an apartment in Bed-Stuy, not too far from Natasha. He was holding a steaming mug in his hand when he answered the door. “Hey,” he greeted. “I’m glad you called.”

“My sense of civic duty compelled me,” Natasha answered, pert.

“Somehow I doubt that, but come on in.”

The interior of the apartment boasted all the hallmarks of a hasty tidying, and seemed to be one big room, with high ceilings and bare brick walls. A threadbare couch sat before a coffee table covered in files, illuminated by the light of the kitchenette.

“Nice place,” she commented.

“Yeah. Heating’s shit, but the rent’s cheap. It’s good enough for me.” Clint leant back against the wall as Natasha set her handbag down on the floor next to the couch. “Can I get you anything?” he offered. “Coffee?”

“Water is fine. I don’t drink coffee.”

Clint looked perplexed at the thought that someone might not drink coffee, but Natasha was used to that reaction. She sat down on the couch while Clint wandered to the cupboards. From her seat she could see a large bed tucked into an alcove beside the kitchenette, and a set of shelves crammed with a surprising number of books, mostly true crime and popular science from what she could make out.

She waited as Clint turned to the sink. A strip of bare skin showed between the hem of his t-shirt and his low-slung jeans, and Natasha smiled to herself.

Clint shut off the tap and walked back to the couch, handing her a violently purple mug bearing the words ‘I’m Great at Coffee.’ “Out of clean glasses,” he said by way of explanation. “You said on the phone you had something to discuss?”

Natasha accepted the mug, raising it to her lips and taking a sip of cool water. “You hear things, in this industry.”

Clint paused with his own mug halfway to his mouth. “Do you.” It wasn’t a question.

“For the record, Detective, I’ve never been involved in anything illegal.”

“Sure,” Clint prompted.

“The antique book trade’s not a large pond, and I’m good at what I do,” Natasha began, watching for his reaction. “I hear things now and then. Things that don’t add up.”

Clint nodded. “So what’s not adding up now?”

“You know Asgard Books?”

“That big store on the Upper West Side? Yeah, what about it?”

“It’s a chain,” Natasha said. “Man named Odinson owns it. He’s got two sons, and the younger one’s sniffing around Adjectives.” She paused to let the information sink in. “Except word is, Odinson’s planning to leave the business to his oldest son when he retires. Why is Loki Odinson trying to get in on it?”

“Loki Odinson.” The way Clint said it, it was as if the name was not unfamiliar to him. “Can I ask you to look at something?”

 Natasha’s interest was piqued. There could be more to the story after all. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Clint pulled a file off the paper strewn table and flipped it open before handing it to her. It contained a grainy photograph of two men standing outside a New York brownstone, partially blocked by a sleek black car. One of the men had his face turned towards the camera, and Natasha could just make out those familiar features.

“That’s Loki.”

“The man with him is Sergei Petrov.” Clint looked at her hard. “Now will you tell me if you know him?”

Natasha sighed. “Only by reputation. I know he has ties to the black market and I refuse to deal with him.”

“Could be Loki’s trying to get in on the business.” Clint took the file from her hands and his fingers brushed against hers. “Can you tell me if Loki contacts your store again?”

Natasha considered this. Any contact over phone or email was likely to go directly to Maria, and while Natasha was not above using more slippery ways to gain information she needed, she drew the line at spying on her friend. “I will if I hear about it,” she concluded.

“I’d appreciate it,” Clint answered, his smile a little too open. “Anyway,” he went on, dropping the file back onto the table and falling back against the couch. “I was thinking about making pasta. You hungry?”

“Are you asking me to stay for dinner?” Natasha challenged playfully, smoothing down her skirt.

“Just being polite,” he said with a laugh, then his face shifted, like he was searching for something in her that she could not quite place. “You snuck up on me in the park,” he murmured slowly, and she felt the faint tinge of gravel in his voice. “There’s not many who can do that.”

Natasha leant towards him. “Maybe one day you’ll surprise me.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm so sorry about the wait. I got preoccupied with life and posting my Heroine Big Bang fic, 'Here I Dreamt I Was A Soldier.' But I'm back now with more Adjectives Assemble hijinks!
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for the feedback, and to Enigma731 for the beta!

It was a slow day, so Maria let Carol and Jessica go for lunch together while she manned the shop. Natasha stayed in the office to make some calls, and Maria sagged against the counter, grateful for some blissful moments alone.

She ended up tossing paperclips towards a tiny box at the other end of the counter. The first went wide, landing somewhere on the floor; the second missed by an inch. The third and fourth paperclips landed in the box, and Maria was considering how undignified punching the air in victory would be when something very large and very blond entered her field of vision.

“Steve,” she acknowledged with a little nod. “After the new book on Turner?”

“Uh, not yet,” he faltered, shifting around uncomfortably. “I’ve got a free hour and I was wondering… would you like to have lunch with me?”

That was unexpected. “I have to mind the shop-“ she began, when a hand grabbed her elbow and she came face to face with Natasha.

“Maria,” Natasha said sweetly, which was terrifying. “Can I speak to you for a minute? Hi, Steve.” She dragged Maria into the office, kicking the door closed behind them. “The calls are done, and Carol and Jessica will be back soon,” she hissed. “Go have lunch because brooding won’t help anyone.”

“But-“

“Enough! I’ve been putting up with your bad mood all week. _Go.”_

Maria found herself pushed back out the door, facing a confused looking Steve. “Okay,” she said, managing to put a smile on her face. “Let’s go for lunch. 

* * *

 

The Roost was even more crammed with people than usual, and by the time Maria and Steve made their way to the front of the line, it was easy to see why. Bobbi had brought out a fresh batch of her exceptional cupcakes.

Fuck the tuna melts and the salad, Maria could live on those cupcakes alone. “A tiramisu cupcake and a cookies and cream, thanks, Cassie,” she announced, laying the money down on the counter.

“Wow,” Steve said behind her. “I like your lunch choices.”

“These cupcakes are food of the gods.”

Steve grinned as he asked for a gigantic burger with extra fries. Bobbi noted down the order and gave Maria a subtle wink. Maria glared back at her and Bobbi only rolled her eyes.

“So what happened to the cat?” Steve asked when they sat down at a table in the corner.

“The cat? He’s fine. I’m keeping him until he finds a better home.” Maria chose not to mention the now permanent Asimov-shaped dent in the blankets at the end of her bed, or that she might have bought him a cloth mouse last week. She had to maintain her dignity somehow.

“I’m more of a dog person,” Steve said, almost like an apology. “I always wanted one as a kid, but we never had- we didn’t have enough space.”

Maria could never be called the most tactful person, but she knew how to spot an awkward topic. “Did you grow up in New York?” she said, to give him an out.

“Brooklyn, actually,” Steve replied, giving her a small, grateful look.

It turned out Steve was a good conversationalist, telling funny stories about his childhood, then his decision to become a teacher because he wanted to help kids. He seemed to be an optimist without being naïve, a trait Maria respected even if she could not replicate it herself.

He asked her where she grew up and Maria brushed it off with a mention of being born in Chicago, and the conversation moved on to less personal topics, such as music (Maria enjoyed folk rock, Steve had a weakness for swing music) and movies (Steve loved _Pacific Rim,_ Maria had lukewarm feelings). Discussion slowed when their food arrived and eating took precedence, and picked up again when they moved on to coffee.

“How’s business?” Steve asked.

“It’s a small independent book store in the age of Kindle. Need I say more?”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Steve said, and it sounded genuine. “I hope it’s not serious.”

“If by not serious you mean the landlord’s raising the rent and I’m about to be bought out by a rich boy who thinks hair gel is a fashion statement, then yeah, it’s totally fine.” Maria felt her headache returning and instantly regretted her tone. _Sure, Maria, take it out on the guy who offered you lunch. Great life policy._

Steve set his coffee down on the saucer with a clink. “That’s… pretty serious.” He leant across the table towards her, but then pulled back at the last moment. “Are you okay?”

Maria rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. I’ll come up with something, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

He was so well meaning Maria had to hold back a laugh. “Thanks.” She signalled to Bobbi for another coffee, trying not to fidget too much. She wasn’t good at responding to unconditional kindness, but then, the excessive caffeine probably didn’t help. When Bobbi came over Maria took a leaf out of Natasha’s book and switched her order to peppermint tea.

“Wait, I just thought of something,” Steve said suddenly. “I was talking to some local artists. They were thinking about putting together an art show and I want to get my kids involved. Would hosting an event help your store?”

Maria put down the tea- it really did taste like toothpaste- and considered. “That’s actually not a bad idea.” 

* * *

 

Closing time approached fast and Maria left the office to turn off the lights and make sure the alarm was switched on.

She heard someone clear their throat. “Maria, can I ask you something?” Carol was standing at the door, her bag over her shoulder, Jessica hovering behind her.

“What’s on your mind, Carol?”

“Is something wrong?” Carol asked, direct as usual. “Because we’ve noticed you’ve been… off lately. If it’s personal, then your business, fine. But if it’s about the shop, we can help, you know.”

Maria folded her arms, then decided against it, leaning against the counter instead. They would have to find out eventually anyway. “Carver’s raising the rent. Someone’s looking to buy Adjectives Assemble. I’m not going to give in so easily, but if we can’t make the rent… I think you get the possibilities.”

Jessica gave Carol a shocked glance. Carol look stunned, then set her mouth into a grim line. “Then we’ll help figure it out. Got any ideas?”

Maria pushed off the counter. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Carol and Jessica would have a vested interest in keeping the business going, but she did not expect to feel touched, like if she were the kind of person to smile excessively, she would be grinning ear to ear. “I have something I’m working on.”

“Good,” Jessica spoke up. “Then we’ll try to think of more.”

* * *

 

Natasha was two paragraphs into _Tender is the Night_ when her phone buzzed.

Hauling herself into a sitting position, she grabbed the phone from the coffee table and read the new text message.

_Clint Barton: Got some stuff to translate. Mind if I drop it over?_

Natasha smirked as she sent him her address, her grin growing even wider when his reply said that he would be there in fifteen minutes.

By the time Clint’s voice crackled over the intercom Natasha had changed out of her Columbia t-shirt and into white shorts and a loose shirt, because there was no way she was receiving any visitor in her equivalent of sleepwear. If the shirt just happened to flatter her curves, so be it.

She buzzed him in and soon heard the clatter of footsteps coming up the stairs. Natasha opened her front door just as he was climbing the final step. He must have come straight from the station, as he wore dress pants and a grey shirt that was rolled at the sleeves. Either he had forgone a tie or taken it off somewhere on the way to her apartment, leaving his shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

“Thanks for doing this on short notice,” he said as Natasha stepped aside to let him in. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Only a torrid affair with the Great American Novel. Sit.” She held a hand out towards her couch. “Give me what needs translating and I’ll be right with you.”

Natasha took the papers from Clint’s hands and sat down at her kitchen table with a pen and notepad. She had a good view of where Clint was sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch, a charcoal smudge against the cream cushions. Natasha liked simple furnishings and natural light, so Clint’s suit stood out against the pale colours she chose for her apartment.

“This is much the same as before,” she said after a few long moments of silence, writing down the translation in her neat hand. Natasha stood up from her chair and strode over to him, laying the papers and the translations down on the coffee table. “Now, can I get you a drink?”

“Going about this backwards?” Clint teased, the edges of his lips curling.

“Yeah, I never was much of a hostess.” The truth was, Natasha didn’t have many visitors aside from Maria, who simply helped herself to whatever was in the fridge. Unless you counted that night Kate made a drunk and teary phone call from a nearby house party she had ended up at and Natasha had let her sleep it off on the couch.

“I have water, tea or there’s some wine,” Natasha offered, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

Clint’s eyes lit up. “I’ll take the wine, ma’am.”

“Thought you might.” Natasha turned to take some glasses from the overhead cabinet. Since she was barefoot she had to stand on tiptoe to reach the top shelf, and cursed that she was five foot three.

“Fitzgerald, huh?” Clint commented as she took the wine out of the fridge.

Natasha set the glasses on the coffee table next to the book in question, and uncorked the bottle. “You’ve read him?”

Clint leant his forearms on his knees, eyes downcast. “Not since _The Great Gatsby_ in high school. My ex, uh, ex-wife, she’s a fan.”

“You’re divorced?” Natasha asked carefully, still pouring the wine.

“For a few years now.”

“What ended it?” Experience taught her you could learn a lot about a man by the way he spoke of his ex.

Clint sighed heavily and reached for one of the glasses. “I was an idiot. Still am. What about you, ever been married?”

“No, never.” Natasha recognised a deflection when she heard one, and decided not to push it. She saw the sweat beading at the collar of Clint’s shirt. “We can sit on the fire escape,” she suggested. “It’s cooler.”

Natasha slid the window open and climbed out onto the narrow iron platform, carrying the wine bottle. Clint followed, balancing both their full glasses with surprising grace. “Hey, you’re right,” he said, cramming in next to her. “It’s nice out here.”

She laughed at that, shaking her head. The fire escape looked straight onto the neighbouring building and the narrow alley far below them was occupied by dumpsters and stray cats. She suspected Clint was just being polite, but the smile on his face seemed genuine.

“You like heights?” she said, placing the bottle down between their feet and accepting the glass Clint handed to her.

“Love them. I was always up trees as a kid. You?”

“Climbing trees? Hell, no. I spent my childhood in ballet class, playing outside was a foreign concept.” Her feet pointed instinctively at the memory of ballet, and she pushed them down hard against the metal grate floor.

Clint took a large gulp of his wine and tipped his head back like he was trying to absorb as much sun as possible. “I could see you as a ballet dancer.”

“Really.”

His leg pressed against hers. “Yeah. You’ve got… I don’t know. Seems like it would suit you.” Clint raised the glass to his lips and Natasha watched the line of his throat as he drank deeply. “I should get going,” he breathed.

“Early start tomorrow?”

Clint laughed and they were so close Natasha could feel it ripple through his body. “Ma’am, I’m a police officer,” he drawled. “Sleeping in is for civilians.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and made a mock jab at his ribs. Clint caught her arm with a joking protest, pulling her against him so that their faces brushed.

Swallowing, Natasha laid a hand against his chest, feeling his pulse quicken. His hand came up as if to touch her face, and slowly, he closed the distance between their lips.

The kiss was hardly a surprise, Natasha had anticipated it since the afternoon in his apartment, wanted it, if she was honest, for longer than that. She moved to return the kiss, but the angle was awkward and she pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ Clint mumbled into the space between them, already shifting towards the window, but Natasha grabbed his shoulder.

“Shut up.” Swiftly, she kissed him, her hand cupping the back of his neck.

Clint gasped against her lips, bringing his hands up to rest on her hips. The kiss deepened and his hands slid up her back, pressing her to the iron railing. Natasha arched against him as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Eventually they had to break off for air and Clint rested his forehead against hers, chuckling softly. “Well, damn,” he rumbled.

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed, breathless.

Slowly, Clint brought his arms back down to his sides. “I really do have to go,” he said, voice heavy with regret even as he lingered in her space.

“I know.”

He climbed back through the window into the living room and Natasha followed, carrying the bottle and the now empty glasses. She set them on the counter as Clint gathered the files from her coffee table

She unlocked the front door and he stopped under the frame. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

Natasha paused, as if she was weighing up whether to accept the offer. “I think you can.”

Grinning, Clint kissed her once more, short and sweet, and then he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback and as always, to Enigma731 for the beta. 
> 
> Time to check in with Kate and Jessica!

Kate was grappling with a Dilemma.

She had a half hour lunch break and three different reading options: a chapter from _Ulysses_ for her class on Monday, two journal articles on her iPad, and a dog-eared edition of _The Hunger Games,_ which was undoubtedly the most desirable option. The downside was that if any of her colleagues should catch her neglecting Joyce, she might have to admit to not liking Modernist literature, and so leave herself open to a disappointed lecture from Maria on the Value of Literature, with an additional powerpoint outlining Why You Should Do Your Homework.

Disgruntled, Kate reached for _Ulysses_ and flipped it open. She was struggling through Stephen Dedalus’ musing on _Hamlet_ when a shadow fell over the page.

“Oh,” a soft voice said. “I didn’t realise… I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s not a problem, Cassie,” Kate replied gratefully, setting her book aside. She looked up but the sun shone directly into her eyes. “You on a break?” she asked as she rummaged in her bag for her favourite purple sunglasses.

Cassie shifted her weight awkwardly, one hand clutching the strap of her backpack. “No, I finished early today.”

Kate felt an unexpected sting of disappointment. “Oh. Important plans?”

Cassie shrugged. “I wish. Bobbi needed to close. She has some sort of meeting.”

Since she had begun working at Adjectives Assemble, Kate had never known The Coffee Roost to close even a minute early. “Must be some meeting.”

Cassie bit her lip. “Remember how you said your boss was worried about money?”

“Yeah.”

“I think Bobbi’s worried too.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re supposed to be thinking up ideas,” Jessica chided in between kisses.

“Who says I’m not?” Carol’s grin was filthy. “I can multitask.”

“Pretty sure you’re not thinking of… Oh god that feels good.” Jessica let her head fall back as Carol’s teeth scraped along her neck. Her t-shirt had come off a while ago and her bra was on the floor, leaving Jessica in only her jeans as she ground on Carol’s lap.

“This isn’t fair,” she panted, grasping onto the headboard behind Carol. “You’re wearing way more clothes than me.”

Carol laughed. “Patience, young padawan.”

“Patient is something you’ve never been. And what have I said about- _fuck-_ Star Wars references in the bedroom?”

Carol rolled them over, and Jessica’s giggles turned to shivery gasps as Carol kissed and nipped a path between her breasts and down towards her hips.

Jessica threw her head back against the pillows when she felt Carol’s clever fingers undo the button on her jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down so that Jessica’s skin was exposed to the cool air stirred up by the ceiling fan.

Carol slipped a finger into Jessica’s panties and Jessica’s eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, when--

“Not to interrupt you two lovebirds, but if you’re going further I suggest you close the door,” a loud voice interrupted.

It was like someone had tossed a bucket of water over her head. Jessica dived to cover herself with a blanket, coming face to face with Carol’s roommate, Monica Rambeau. Jessica flushed so much it felt like the room would ignite.

“Right, uh, sorry about that,” Carol babbled, almost falling off the bed in her haste to get to the door while Jessica slid further under the blanket.

“Hey, fine by me,” Monica shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d be into exhibitionism, but people always surprise you…”

“Okay, funny, bye!” Carol said with a laugh, pushing the door closed. Monica waved over Carol’s shoulder before it shut with a bang.

“You’d think I’d know better by now,” Carol smirked as she sauntered back towards the bed.

Jessica hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly reluctant to let the blanket fall down again. Monica’s interruption had shifted her mood, bringing up the thoughts she had pushed down when the news about the store’s financial trouble distracted her. “Bring a lot of girls home?” she asked, staring at the blue and red pattern on the quilt cover.

Carol flopped down on the bed, stroking Jessica’s exposed shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said teasingly, replacing her fingers with her lips.

“It’s not like you tell me anything,” Jessica muttered, gripping her knees tighter.

Carol sat up so fast she almost fell off the bed again. “How is that… What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking… God, I don’t even know.” Jessica scrubbed her hands over her eyes. Maybe it was finally time to bring up what she had been avoiding all day. “Yesterday my friend Wanda asked me if I was seeing anyone. I think she was trying to set me up or something. And I didn’t know what to tell her. Are we dating, Carol?”

Carol blinked at her. “Jess…”

Jessica knew that she was putting Carol on the spot and it wasn’t fair, but the floodgates had opened and she could not stop her thoughts bursting through. “I need to know, what’s the label here? Is it friends with benefits, and should I tell Wanda that I’m free after all?”

Carol opened her mouth, then closed it again. Instead she turned away, sitting slumped on the edge of the bed. When she spoke her voice sounded hoarse. “I… I don’t know what I expect from this. It’s not like I planned it.”

Jessica tried not to show how much Carol’s words hurt. “That’s what I thought.” Slowly, she unfolded her legs and pushed back the blankets, pulling up her jeans. Her hands felt numb, mechanical, and she fumbled as she did up the zipper.

“Jess, don’t-“ Carol tried to say, but Jessica ignored her.

She refused to look at Carol while she put on her bra and roughly shoved her t-shirt over her head. “This was a mistake,” Jessica said, grabbing her bag and wrenching the door open.

Carol did not try to stop her. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the silent apartment.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, the chapter numbers have reached double digits!
> 
> Thanks to my beta and everyone who left feedback. :)

Maria sipped her fourth coffee of the morning and instantly regretted it. She had made coffee on her hot plate instead of sending someone out to the Roost, and the thin black liquid tasted bitter.

Sighing, Maria swivelled her chair around and poured the offending brew into the much neglected potted plant on the dusty windowsill. She was aiming to be better about unnecessary spending, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Kate!”

Kate’s face appeared at the door. “Yes, Maria?”

“Get me a latte, please. The biggest size they have.”

“Sure,” Kate replied, but instead of leaving, she came through the door and hovered by Maria’s desk.

“Is something wrong?”

Kate looked hesitant, shy almost, which was unlike her. “No, but… you know Cassie Lang?”

“The barista at the Roost?” Maria frowned. If Kate was about to ask for dating advice Maria was highly unqualified.

“Yeah. She said Bobbi’s been meeting with her landlord as well.”

Maria sat back as she took in that information. “I see.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but… I mean, you’re planning this art show, right?” Kate blathered on, drawing vague diagrams in the air. “You could talk to Bobbi. About like, catering or something.”

Maria cast her eyes down at the notebook on her desk where she was calculating expenses for the art show. She hadn’t started to factor in catering yet, but it was something that needed consideration. “I’ll look into it.”

 

* * *

 

Jessica was operating on very little sleep and she was starting to feel it. It was less than twelve hours since she’d stormed out of Carol’s apartment, and to make matters worse, this morning she’d found an email from her father in England. Dear old Dad was one of the main reasons why she applied to university in New York and then decided to stay on after finishing her degree. It was enough to make her want to call in sick and stay in bed watching reruns of _Gilmore Girls,_ but bills had to be paid. At least it was Carol’s day off.

She examined the row of books she had just shelved and realised half of them were out of order. “God damn it!”

Jessica whirled around and came face to face with Kate. “Uh,” Kate started, waving a piece of paper. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“No,” she snapped. “No, I do not want coffee.”

Kate pursed her lips. “Oookay then. I’ll be going now.”

Jessica turned back to her shelf and was trying to get the books back in order when Natasha appeared at her shoulder.

“Are you done?” she asked, arms folded across her chest.

“With the shelving?”

“No, with this sulk you’ve got going. You should yell at a customer, that would really go down well.”

Normally Jessica appreciated snark, but today it made her want to hit things. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Natasha said lightly. She looked decidedly unimpressed, and Jessica suddenly felt sorry for Natasha’s competitors. “Your alphabetising’s off, the display is terrible, and you just snapped at _Kate._ What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jessica said, aware of how sulky she must have sounded but unwilling to actually care.

Natasha gave a graceful shrug. “I know you and I aren’t very close, and that’s partly my fault. I’m not a social person unless I have to be. But that’s my choice, and I’m happy this way. You, on the other hand…” She huffed with frustration. “You cut yourself off. It’s like you’re so scared about getting hurt that you sabotage everything.”

Jessica focused all her attention on the books in front of her. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough she could conjure up a portal or turn a book into a Portkey and get out of here. “It’s none of your business, Natasha.”

“Suit yourself.”

 

* * *

 

Clint had sent Natasha a text asking her to meet him at the station that evening, so she walked through the maze of police cars and pushed open the heavy doors.

She spotted Clint almost instantly. He was standing at the other end of the foyer, talking to another detective. They made a handsome pair, and Natasha paused to admire the view before clearing her throat.

Clint turned and waved her over. “Hey,” he said, a grin flitting across his features. “This is my partner, Detective Sam Wilson. Wilson, Natasha Romanoff.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the other man said, shaking her hand. He had a firm grip. “We appreciate your help on this investigation. Would you mind looking at some photos?”

“Not at all, lead the way.”

Detective Wilson guided her towards an interview room. It was similar to the room where she had first spoken with Clint, perhaps a little larger. Clint sat down opposite her and Wilson placed an open manila file on the table, filled with photos in plastic sleeves. “Can you identify any of these three people?” he asked.

Natasha flicked through the photos and studied them, the only sound in the room coming from the rustling of the plastic sleeves. Finally she tapped one of the photos with her fingernail. “This is Christopher Markham. Mid-range antique dealer, I’ve run into him at a few auctions but he didn’t go after books; mostly imported furniture. I got the impression he’s more of a front man than someone who actually knows what he’s doing. His knowledge of antiques is superficial at best.”

“Not bad,” Detective Wilson commented, sounding impressed. “Anyone else you recognise?”

Natasha shook her head. “I’ve seen this woman in a showroom, but I don’t know her name or who she works for.”

“Thanks all the same,” Clint said, pulling the file across the table towards him. Yawning, he stood up from the table and stretched. “Glad I’m done for the night. Heading out, Wilson?”

Wilson grabbed his jacket from the back of his seat and pulled it on as they filed out of the room. “Nah, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Thanks again, Miss Romanoff.”

He gave a half-hearted wave as he headed back down the hall. Clint turned to her, undoing his sleeves and rolling them up his forearms. “Do you need a ride? I have my car here.”

Natasha followed the line of the newly exposed vein on his arm. “I won’t turn down the offer.”

She followed him though the car park out to an old but well-loved Ford. She slid into the passenger seat while Clint turned on the radio and Natasha was grateful for the distraction. It gave her time to think as they drove towards Brooklyn. He hadn’t mentioned the kiss, but nothing in his body language suggested he was embarrassed or uninterested in further exploration.

They stopped at a set of lights and Natasha slowly peeled off her jacket, rolling her shoulders back to emphasise the cut of her black top. Clint’s eyes flicked over to her and her lips quirked. “Eyes on the road, Detective.”

Clint shook his head. “Don’t make me break the speed limit and have to arrest myself.”

“Is this the cop equivalent to banter?”

The boyish wolf grin was back. “Nah. I haven’t even brought up the handcuffs yet.”

“Ah, but that’s a cliché.”

“Don’t knock the classics.”

Clint turned up the radio as they drove on, and Natasha watched him out of the corner of her eye as he began to sing along with Bruce Springsteen under his breath. She wondered if he was even conscious of it. It was rather endearing.

The song ended just as Clint pulled into a parking spot on her street. “You really do love the classics,” Natasha remarked.

“When it comes to cars or stuff to do in cars, yeah.” He gave her an exaggerated wink.

Natasha scoffed. “What are you, sixteen?”

“Huh?”

_“Stuff to do in cars,”_ she repeated pointedly.

“Yeah. Stuff.” Clint drummed his fingers on the dashboard in front of him. “I could give a small demonstration,” he suggested, all too casually.

There was the opening she’d been waiting for. She whispered, “Go on,” and let him hear the challenge in her voice.

She could see him swallow as he moved towards her, laying his palm against her cheek. He paused, studying her face as if he was searching for something—permission? Attraction? She leant into his hand, which seemed to be the answer he needed, and he kissed her.

He started slow at first, gentle presses of his lips against hers, then increasing the pressure as she responded, the kiss turning from cautious to hungry as he explored her mouth, his fingers sinking into her hair.

Natasha braced herself against the seat so she could give as good as she got, but the balance was unsatisfying. Time for action. Breaking off the kiss, she placed her hand in the center of his chest and shoved him back into his seat.

Clint opened his mouth to say something and then his jaw went slack when Natasha climbed across the gap between the seats and into his lap. She took advantage of his surprise and kissed him hard, feeling his breath hitch.

“You don’t waste any time,” he rasped.

“Does that bother you?” she said, eyebrow raised.

Clint grinned up at her. “Hell, no.”

He kissed her mouth and then grazed his lips along her neck. Natasha couldn’t help the moan that escaped her at the delicious scrape of stubble and she tipped her head to give him better access as he made his way down.

He stopped just below her collarbone and looked up at her. “Is this okay?”

Natasha nodded, curling her fingers into the short hair at the base of his neck. Clint bent his head and pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses against her skin, one hand at her back to steady her and the other resting on her thigh. He lingered on the edge of her top but did not venture lower, instead focusing his attention on her exposed skin and back up her throat, switching between kisses and tiny nips that took her breath.

“Don’t mark me,” she warned when he bit down harder. Clint made a noise of assent, instead brushing his lips so softly against her pulse point that it made her almost writhe in frustration. She grabbed his face and pulled him up to kiss him deeply, teasing her teeth along his lower lip.

“Fuck me,” Clint groaned when they broke apart.

She pressed herself against him and she could feel how hard he was under his pants. Kissing along his jaw, she gave an experimental roll of her hips and Clint’s head dropped onto her shoulder.

“You’re killing me, Natasha,” he murmured, and she laughed, patting his cheek.

She was about to invite him up when she felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, the ring tone obnoxiously loud throughout the car.

Clint swore under his breath as he fumbled in his pockets, and Natasha sat back to give him room.

Natasha kept still while Clint answered the phone. “Barton… Hey, Sarge. What? Yeah, sure. No problem.” He ended the call and took a long, deep breath, tipping his head back against the headrest. “Something’s come up. I have to get back to the station.”

“That’s all right. Duty calls.” Natasha climbed back to her own seat and picked up her bag and jacket before opening the passenger side door. She cast her eyes down at the visible bulge in his pants. “I’ll leave you alone to deal with that.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people, here is a new chapter! As always, thanks to my beta and everyone who left feedback. I'd make you all pancakes if I could. :)

Her schedule free for the afternoon, Maria cleared away the remains of her lunchtime sushi and made her way over to The Roost. It was something of a relief to get out of Adjectives Assemble for a while, what with Jessica and Carol glaring at each other all the time. It took all of Maria’s self-control not to yell orders like a badly tempered drill sergeant. This was why she ran the business and Natasha dealt with clients.

At this time of day The Roost was quiet. The lunchtime rush had finished and it would be a while before the place would be flooded with people seeking coffee for their commute home. Cassie waved from behind the counter and pointed to a table at the back. Bobbi was sitting there, studying a muffin as if she was searching for signs of life.

“She’s been doing that for nearly half an hour,” Cassie whispered. “I’m starting to get worried.”

“Uh, hello,” Maria said when she walked over.

“Hi,” Bobbi replied, without looking up. “Would you mind trying this muffin?”

Maria sat down gingerly. “Is it going to explode?”

Bobbi squinted at the muffin. “I’m not sure about the milk to white chocolate chip ratio in this new recipe and I need another opinion.”

Maria acknowledged that this was a problem, in part because she sensed that no conversation was going to progress before muffin perfection had been attained. She pulled the plate over and broke off a piece of the muffin, taking her time to chew it. “More milk, less white,” she concluded. “The sweetness of the white chocolate is overpowering.”

“Noted.” Satisfied, Bobbi finally looked up from the muffin. “Cassie said you guys are having an art show?”

“Yes.” Maria pulled her notes out of her bag and spread them across the table. “We’re showcasing work by local artists and I’m planning to host a small auction.”

Bobbi nodded, flicking through the notes.

“I was wondering if you could provide the catering,” Maria said. No sense beating around the bush.

“Catering,” Bobbi repeated.

“We can print the name of your café in all the promotional materials.”

Bobbi pursed her lips. “What kind of catering are you thinking?”

Maria made a show of shrugging. “Sandwiches, pastries, that kind of thing. I figured I’d leave that up to you.”

“All right,” Bobbi said slowly, breaking into a grin. “I’m in. Where do we start?”

“Well, I’m sorting out a lot of official paperwork,” Maria began, tapping the forms in front of her. “But we should get a start on planning the promotion.”

“Social media,” Bobbi suggested, reaching up to secure a strand of long blonde hair that had escaped from her sensible bun. “I’ll ask Cassie if she’s up for it. What about Kate? Isn’t she a creative type?”

There was something all-too-casual about Bobbi’s tone that gave Maria pause. “Is that the only reason you think Kate would be a good choice?”

“Perhaps. I see Kate and Cassie blushing at each other all the time. Maybe if they work together one of them might actually make a move.”

Maria regarded Bobbi with newfound respect. “Sneaky matchmaking. I think this partnership has potential.”

Bobbi stuck out a hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

 

* * *

 

“Thanks again for offering to help,” Kate said to her roommate.

“No problem. I want to meet this girl you’ve been swooning over and it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do right now.” America Chavez crossed her long, long legs and tipped her head back to catch the afternoon sun. Washington Square Park was full of NYU students and business people, eating lunch or drinking coffee or- _gross-_ smoking. Kate moved her foot away from a ground cigarette butt in the dirt by the bench she and America had chosen to wait for Cassie.

Eventually Cassie appeared among the crowd, wearing white shorts and a blue t-shirt bearing the words “My Other Car Is A TARDIS.” She looked around and waved when she spotted them.

“That’s the barista, huh?” America said, nudging Kate in the side.

“Shh!” Kate hissed, shoving her friend back. “Don’t be evil.”

America gave her a look that was anything but innocent. Time for Kate to unleash her secret weapon. “Keep that up and I’ll tell everyone you teared up watching _Tangled._ ”

“Fine. You play dirty, Bishop.”

By now Cassie stood in front of them, shifting from foot to foot. “Hi, Kate,” she said, grinning shyly.

“Hey.” Kate smiled back stupidly until America gave her a subtle elbow nudge. “Cassie, this is my roommate, America. I’ve asked her to help.”

America waved as Cassie sat down next to Kate.

Kate flipped open her notebook and took the cap off her favourite purple pen. “I’m thinking Facebook for promotion,” she began. “It’s about time Adjectives Assemble had a Facebook page anyway.”

“Posters and flyers,” Cassie chipped in, so quietly Kate had to lean towards her to hear her over the noise of the park.

“Posters are good,” she affirmed. “America?”

“I’ll design them, no problem,” America said as she stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Anyway, I have to get going. You two have fun saving small businesses.”

“It’s weird seeing you outside work,” Cassie said after a moment, looking down at her knees.

“Yeah,” Kate agreed. “It’s like a weird universe collision.”

_What?_

Cassie stared, then burst out laughing. “P-pardon?” she managed, then laughed again, a little too much, like it was relief, and Kate couldn’t help joining in.

“I meant like, normally when I see you I’m in work mode, or break-from-work-mode, and here in the park it’s usually study mode or friend mode, not that you’re not a friend…” _Shut up, shut up!_

“Cool, I get it,” said Cassie softly, and Kate shot her a grateful look.

“So, um, my friend David’s having a party this weekend,” Kate offered. “Want to come?”

“I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

Natasha scribbled so viciously that her pen stabbed straight through the sticky-note. Cursing, she threw down her pen only to have it clatter to the floor and roll under Maria’s desk. “Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Fucking great.”

It had not been a good day. She’d been trying to contact a book dealer via the landline and got stuck on hold for twenty minutes, missed two calls on her cell phone, been called ‘sweetheart’ by a condescending businessman and her tea had gone cold. To top it all off, the email currently open in her inbox informed her in clipped tones that she no longer needed to locate a rare edition of _Anna Karenina_ as the client had come by it elsewhere.

Natasha wasn’t annoyed. She was _furious._

It was an unusual feeling. She felt frustrated sometimes at work, irritated frequently, but normally it took far more than inappropriate endearments and rude clients to make her truly lose her temper. But something wasn’t adding up and it got under her skin like a splinter.

She was considering excusing herself and taking out her frustrations on the heavy bag in Maria’s apartment, when her phone chimed. Clint. Again. Natasha took a deep breath and sat back down at her desk.

She had not seen Clint for a few days. On Wednesday he sent her a text which read, _Bored. Give me a book to read,_ and later, _Not Dan Brown though._ This prompted an odd back and forth where Clint sent her messages with no context and Natasha responded in kind. Natasha wasn’t sure if this was his idea of flirting or if he was genuinely bored, but it kept her amused.

Today his text had a more official tone, asking her to meet him at the station again. When she pushed open the doors he was waiting in the lobby, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. It looked like he hadn’t been shaving again.

“Hey,” he said, straightening to his full height. “Mind taking a look at something?”

Natasha felt surprised when he led her to an interview room. “No pleasantries today?” she asked, pausing just outside the door.

“Not at work,” he replied dryly, but he winked. Once they were inside Clint took the lid off a plain cardboard box and placed a package on the table. “Anything you can tell me about that?”

It was a book, wrapped in a clear evidence bag. Natasha could just make out the Cyrillic letters on the cover. _Anna Karenina._

Well, then.

Instinctively Natasha started to run her fingers over the embossed leather before she caught herself and placed her hands flat on the table. “This is an extremely rare edition of Tolstoy,” she observed, sitting back but unable to quite take her eyes off the book. “There aren’t too many copies around.”

Clint folded his arms. “Valuable?”

“Of course.”

“We intercepted a black market deal,” Clint began slowly, glancing down at her hands. “Don’t suppose you know anything about that.”

Maybe it was his air of suspicion or the fact that the very book she had spent a week searching for was now being held as evidence, but Natasha’s temper flared. “I told you already, I don’t deal with any black market traders.”

Clint did not rise to her tone. “I understand that business isn’t so great. It’d be understandable if you went for more desperate measures.”

“Considering that this deal was intercepted, it doesn’t seem like the black market is worth my while. Am I a suspect again?” Natasha snapped, honestly angry now.

Clint laid his arms on the table and leant forward, gazing at her so intensely she could feel it on her skin. “I don’t know who you are.”

The pieces started to come together in her mind. The black market deal. The emails from clients cancelling jobs. The chair made a harsh scraping sound as she pushed it back over the concrete. “New York’s a large pond,” she said, standing. “But if I do hear something I’ll give you a call.”

“No, Natasha, wait-“

“Detective.” She left the door open on her way out, knowing he would have to stand to close it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos last time, I hope you patience pays off with this and the upcoming chapters. ;) Thanks also to Enigma731 for the super speedy beta!

Carol was woken by the sound of a door slamming. Her startled jerk caused Chewie to abandon her place on Carol’s stomach, sticking her claws in for good measure.

“Sleeping on the couch and _True Blood?”_ Monica announced, tossing her bag onto the coffee table. “You must be worse off than I thought.”

Carol pouted, rubbing her stomach. “Don’t mock me.”

“Is this still about that girl you were sleeping with, Jessica?” Monica fell into the armchair next to the couch and helped herself to some of Carol’s take out. “Wow, this is good.”

“I got it from the new Indian place up the street,” said Carol miserably, reaching down to scoop up a protesting Chewie. The cat had been getting a lot of cuddles in the past week, and her patience was wearing thin. Carol hugged her regardless.

“You have the best taste in comfort food.”

“I learn from experience,” Carol muttered as Chewie squirmed out from her grasp. _Even the cat won’t put up with me._

Monica smirked as she lifted another forkful of curry. “Along with the self-pity. Can’t you call this girl and apologise for whatever it is you did?”

“What makes you think it’s my fault?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Monica’s expression said it all.

“Fine.” Carol turned her attention back to the TV just in time to see a vampire explode in a shower of red corn syrup. It did nothing to distract her, so she reached for her mug and found nothing but cold coffee dregs. How long had she been asleep? On the TV screen Anna Paquin fell into the arms of some handsome shirtless actor, and it was too much. “All I wanted to do was have sex with a hot girl and now I have all these feelings!”

It was to Monica’s credit that she only raised an eyebrow as she set down the take out container. “Okay, there’s the outburst I’ve been waiting for.”

“Sorry.” It took all of Carol’s will power to make herself sit up and drag the food back towards her.

“Have you considered telling Jessica how you feel?” Monica asked and Carol scooped up large amounts of curry, inhaling the strong aroma of spices.

“’Course not,” Carol said through a mouthful of curry, but it came out “Mhmm nom.”

“Classy. Jessica’s a lucky girl.”

Carol swallowed. “Shut up.”

Monica made an exasperated noise as she ran a hand through her dreads. “What happened between you two anyway? Last I saw you were getting down and dirty.”

“I don’t know!” Carol exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “She said something about not being sure we were dating. Or wanting to tell people we were dating. I didn’t… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh for—whatever. What have you got lined up next?” Monica asked as the episode of _True Blood_ drew to a bloody climax.

“I was thinking _Star Trek: Voyager._ ”

“Bring it on.”

* * *

 

The sign above the shop window looked brand new, spelling out _New and Used Russian Language Books_ in English and Cyrillic. It must have been replaced since Natasha last set eyes on it, though she maintained the narrow street level entrance still looked like the other buildings were squashing it.

Straightening her shoulders, she pushed open the door and marched up the grey, carpeted stairs to the main shop floor. This was as she remembered, cold light and clean lines with books arranged neatly on the shelves, so sterile she could practically smell the antiseptic. The exception was her target, an overflowing desk at the back of the room.

A blonde head appeared over a stack of books but Natasha did not break her stride. “Hello, Yelena.”

Yelena set down the book she was holding and took off her silver-rimmed glasses, putting them into a little case. “Natasha. It’s been a while.”

“Indeed it has,” Natasha said with her sweetest smile, now directly in front of the desk. “I’m glad business seems to be going well.”

Yelena had to lean her head back to look Natasha in the eye. “It’s all right,” she pronounced, arranging some papers on her desk. “Why did you come here? Book you can’t find?”

“Quite the opposite. It’s a book that was found, but not by me.”

“How cryptic. Should we be wearing hats and trench coats?”

Natasha let a little more venom creep into her smile and was satisfied by Yelena’s corresponding blink. “I’ll leave out the cloak and dagger,” she said, folding her arms. “I know you were after the same _Anna Karenina_ as me and you went to the black market to get it.”

At least three emotions- surprise, fear, anger- flickered across Yelena’s china doll features until she put on a look of impassive blandness. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming across town to say that. You were far less sloppy in college.”

Natasha ignored the barb. “The police intercepted the deal. They know it’s not me, so it’s only a matter of time before they figure out where that book was headed.”

Yelena paled and she dropped her gaze, biting her lip. “What do you want?” she said finally.

Natasha paused, tapping her phone into her hand. She cocked her head and Yelena’s pupils widened, looking like a rabbit in front of a snake. “Nothing,” Natasha said. “Hard to believe, but I’m actually here as a favour. You couldn’t have gotten the contacts to find that book so fast. And look at this place. It’s all done up, recently too. Business can’t be that great. You’ve linked up with someone.”

Yelena’s stare was death. Finally she looked like the stroppy, fiercely competitive girl Natasha had butted heads with in college. “You can’t prove it.”

Natasha sighed. “You want my advice, go to the police, confess, give them what they need in exchange for a deal. If you don’t, well, it’s only a matter of time before they find you.”

“You’ll tell them,” Yelena concluded.

“I’m giving you a chance,” Natasha corrected. “If you don’t go to the police I’ll call Columbia and tell them that you only beat me in the final exams because you cheated.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I have the number in my phone.” Natasha reached into her wallet and pulled out the business card she had been keeping there, flicking it towards Yelena. She sat down on the edge of the desk, pushed back her hair and crossed her legs primly. “Ring Detective Barton. I’ll wait.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone! My thesis has been taking a lot of my time. Thanks to Enigma731 for the beta and everyone who left feedback last time, it means a lot to me!
> 
> Warnings: Sexual references.

Offering to discuss the upcoming art show with Steve after hours had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that he was actually sitting across from her in the office, Maria was finding the situation a bit awkward, to put it mildly.

“I brought muffins,” Steve said in the world’s most obvious attempt at an icebreaker. “From next door.”

He placed one of the baked goods in question on the desk. Bobbi’s chocolate chip muffin, Maria observed. This would be a chance to see if Bobbi had perfected the recipe; Maria had been looking for an opportunity. She lifted the muffin to her mouth and took a bite. Yes. The heights of muffin perfection had been reached. “These are amazing,” she observed, forgetting that she hadn’t yet swallowed. Her cheeks grew hot.

“I’ve been talking to some artists,” Steve began. “The dates work for them. Have you given any thought to how you’re going to arrange the space?”

Maria sat back and launched into the spiel she had prepared. “We’re moving some shelves and arranging the paintings in a semicircle. Smaller paintings will be arranged in rows between the aisles, so people can walk through easily. I’ve got catering lined up and one of my employees is organising the promotion. Her name’s Kate. You’d like her.”

Steve smiled. “Sounds like things are in good hands.”

“I’d hope so, considering how much is riding on it.”

The silence stretched out between them, and Maria was wondering how best to break it when Steve did it for her. “Well, then I’ll leave these phone numbers with you. Is there anything else I can help with?”

“Steve…” Maria sighed. It had been far too long since she’d done anything like this. “Would you like to have a drink?”

Steve looked surprised, but then covered it. “I’m actually meeting a friend in fifteen minutes,” he said apologetically, sounding truly regretful.

“Oh,” Maria replied. His refusal stung a little, which was ridiculous. “That’s okay, never mind—“

“Another time, though. If you’d like.”

* * *

 

The heat wave finally broke that afternoon, spilling torrents of rain all over New York. Natasha sighed as she inhaled the delicate fragrance wafting from the mug of jasmine tea she held in her hand. She felt edgy and restless, and even the satisfaction of confronting Yelena did little to ease her mood. She leaned against her kitchen counter and tried to calm her thoughts, watching the raindrops through her window.

A harsh buzz cut through her reverie and she stalked over to the door.

“Natasha,” Clint’s voice crackled over the speaker. “It’s me. Will you let me up?”

Natasha had been expecting him for a while, but he didn’t need to know that. She still felt a need to make him sweat, to punish him a little more for not trusting her, so took a long sip of her tea and said nothing, one finger poised over the buzzer.

“Natasha?” Clint’s voice came again. “We need to talk.”

She debated leaving him out in the rain, but her voice of reason pointed out that Clint had been doing his job, and Natasha prided herself on being a rational person, most of the time. Shrugging, she pressed the button to let him in.

Clint’s footsteps echoed in the stairwell and soon Natasha heard him knocking on her door. When she opened it he was leaning against the doorframe, droplets of water falling from his spiky hair.

“You don’t have a coat?” Natasha inquired, pretending not to notice the way his t-shirt clung to his chest and torso.

“I came straight from work,” Clint muttered, his eyes settling somewhere over her shoulder. “Can I come in?”

“You are at my door.” Natasha stepped aside and Clint strode past her. He glanced around the living room and then turned to face her, his eyes hard.

“I had a phone call today from someone named Yelena Belova,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

Natasha was careful to keep her voice neutral. “Did you?”

“She wanted to confess,” Clint continued, squaring his shoulders. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, I guess?”

“What makes you think I did?” Natasha replied evenly, matching his gaze. The trick to any confrontation was eye contact.

A vein jumped in Clint’s jaw. “Stop trying to play me!” he demanded. “You and Belova were at college together, you’re in the same business. Tell me, did you convince Belova to come clean?”

“Yes.”

Clint slammed his palm against the wall. “Damn it, Natasha, you could have blown the whole case! What if it didn’t work, and she’d gone running off to her boss instead?”

“I knew it would work,” she said simply, refusing to give him the satisfaction of rising to his anger. She considered doing something obnoxious like starting to clean her fridge while he was talking, but then decided against it. Instead she folded her arms and leant against the kitchen counter. If Clint wanted a fight, she’d give him one.

Clint, it appeared, was on a roll. “And what if Belova’s bosses had been there? You could’ve… Fuck, do you even realise how dangerous that was?”

That did make Natasha angry. “When you’re done yelling about hypotheticals, are going to thank me for getting Belova?” she spat.

“ _Thank_ you?” Clint rubbed a hand over his face, his chest rising and falling as he drew breath. “Natasha,” he went on, sounding like he was fighting to stay calm. “When I told you about the black market deal, did you know it was Belova then?”

“Not right away,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“Jesus.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Clint looked away from her, his shoulders slumping, and when he spoke his voice sounded like gravel. “I don’t know.”

Pushing off the counter, Natasha stepped up to him. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, her anger evaporating into… something else. “Clint?” she said softly.

Clint met her gaze, still breathing hard. “I…” He reached towards her, then let his arm fall.

Before she could give herself time to think, Natasha kissed him.

He froze, probably stunned by the sudden mood whiplash, and then he sprang into action, one hand cupping her back of her head, the other snaking around her waist to haul her against him.

Natasha ran her fingers through the short spikes of his hair as he held her, darting her tongue into his mouth. Her shirt had ridden up from their movements, and heat spread through her at the rough feel of his jeans against her bare stomach. Dizzily, she brought down her hands and slipped them under his shirt, pulling it up.

Clint broke off the kiss, catching her hands in his. “Natasha,” he said hastily, “are you okay with this?”

“Would I be doing this,” she hissed, biting his earlobe, “if I wasn’t?”

“Okay, okay,” Clint laughed, taking off his t-shirt. “Just making sure.”

Pulling back from him, Natasha grabbed hold of the hem of her shirt and slipped it over her head, then undid her bra before he had time to react, letting it fall to the floor. His chest was cool when she pressed herself against him, drawing a sharp breath at the feel of skin on skin.

Clint made a noise low in his throat, almost a growl as he scraped his teeth down her neck, one hand at the small of her back as the other trailed along her side, stopping short of her breast.

Natasha caught his hands in hers. “You can touch me,” she whispered, placing his hands on her breast. Clint’s eyes widened, his breath quickening as he cupped her soft curves. His thumbs flicked over Natasha’s nipples, sending tiny shocks of pleasure through her body.

“Bedroom,” she gasped.

“Huh?” Clint’s brow scrunched in confusion.

“I want to comfortable while we do this.”

“Oh.” He gave her a quick kiss before bringing his hands back down to her waist. “Lead the way.”

They stumbled into her bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. Natasha tripped over her shorts when she stepped backwards and Clint caught her, grinning as he picked her up and laid her on the bed.

He started kissing down her body, lingering on her hip before nuzzling her inner thigh, and she knew what he wanted to do but it was too much, too close to something this wasn’t, and she grabbed his upper arms to stop him.

“Something wrong?” Clint began to ask, and she shook her head, kissing him roughly instead as she palmed his cock, giving a few experimental strokes.

“Fuck, slow down, baby,” Clint murmured against her lips.

“Don’t call me that.”

Natasha leant over him to fetch a condom out of her bedside drawer. Clint stroked her side, pulling her into his lap and plucking the condom from her hand so he could sheathe himself.

She held on to his shoulders and slowly slid down onto him, her head falling back at the glorious stretch, riding right on the edge of pleasure and pain. Clint kept one hand on her hip and another at her back, kissing her throat.

“You good?” he murmured.

“Yeah.” She kissed him and he guided her hips until finally, he was fully seated inside her, her mouth open in a silent moan.

“Oh fuck,” Clint groaned, his arms tightening around her as he started to move. “Fuck, Tasha, you feel so good.”

Gripping his shoulder and the back of his neck for leverage, Natasha rolled her hips, trying to match his rhythm as Clint moved harder and faster, his callused fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. He bent to catch her left nipple between his teeth and Natasha couldn’t help the cry that escaped from her lips. She held on to him and sped up the pace, practically bouncing in his lap as she sought her pleasure.

He rolled them over, hitching her left leg over his arm so he could thrust deeper. He kissed her hard and Natasha felt her orgasm start to build with each snap of his hips.

Clint reached between them and rubbed her clit, whispering, “Yes, Tasha, that’s it, c’mon,” and that sent her soaring over the edge, she arched off the bed, digging her nails into his back and shuddering her release.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem* Hello again. I am so, so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I got preoccupied by my thesis and writing Secret Santa fic. But I'm back now! This is Clint's 'guest' POV chapter.
> 
> Many thanks to Frea_O for betaing this chapter for me.

Clint woke up on pale cotton sheets that weren’t his, a thin bar of light falling across the bed from the crack in the curtains. He stretched out an arm and found an empty space next to him, but that was explained by the clatter coming from the kitchen. Clint flopped onto his back, grinning to himself.

It had been one hell of a night.

He had barely recovered from the first time they fucked when they went another round, and then again when he went to the bathroom during the night and returned to find her sitting up in bed, naked and gorgeous in the faint light, her red curls all tangled and her lips parted. She didn’t say a word as he stepped up to the bed; she just took his hand and guided him down beside her, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless.

Blinking against the morning light, Clint rolled out of the bed and pulled on his jeans. He took a moment to centre himself and then padded out of the bedroom to see Natasha in her tiny kitchen. Her hair hung loose over her shoulder as she sliced a loaf of bread, and she was wearing a large white t-shirt. It ended just below her ass, showing flashes of pale blue panties when she moved.

“Hey,” Clint said from the doorway, suddenly shy.

Natasha waved just as the kettle on the stove began to whistle. “Want breakfast?” she said over her shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks.” Clint took that as his permission to approach her until he was at her back. He curled his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek, smiling when she leaned back against him, tipping her head to the side. Clint trailed his lips down her neck, lingering on the faint bruises from the night before. Natasha let out a tiny moan and pressed her ass against him in a way that was highly unfair.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee?”

“Coffee is fuel, Clint. Tea is an art.” She turned her head to kiss him, softly at first, then more heated. Clint slid his hand up from her stomach until he found her right breast, massaging it until she pressed into his palm, drawing a sharp breath.

“You like that?” he murmured into her ear, teasing her nipple through her shirt.

Her head rolled back onto his shoulder. “Fuck, yes.”

Clint slipped his other hands into her panties and circled her clit. “That, too?”

“Yes.” She reached up to grip the back of his neck as he slipped a finger inside her. Natasha drew a sharp breath, grinding against him until he grew hard.

“I have a condom in my back pocket,” he suggested, not wanting to push her. She nodded wordlessly, biting her lip. Clint chuckled as she canted her hips against his hand. “Wanna come on my fingers first?”

Natasha turned to kiss him hungrily. “When do you have to be at work?” she purred.

“Soon.” Clint kept up his slow, almost lazy strokes. “But I’ve got enough time for you.”

“Hmm.” Natasha’s nails scraped his neck as he added another finger. He brought his other hand down from her breast to rub her clit and she fell forward, gripping the edge of the counter in front of her as she clenched around his fingers. “Oh, fuck.”

Clint kissed the spot behind her ear as he pushed her panties down over her hips. “You ready?”

“You know I am, asshole.” Natasha laughed.

“Just making sure,” Clint started to say, but the words caught in his throat when she stripped off her t-shirt and shimmied her panties down her legs, kicking them off of her foot. He couldn’t help it; he had to turn her around and draw her into his arms.

She melted against him and he sank her fingers into her hair, kissing her, lifting her up onto the kitchen counter. He moved from her lips down to her throat, to her collarbone and the swell of her breasts, and then she was undoing the button on his jeans and opening the fly, her movements quick, almost frantic. Her haste took him by surprise and he looked up to check if she was okay, but then her hands were on his cock, and it took all of his self control to reach into his back pocket and deal with the condom before shoving his jeans down, lining himself up and thrusting into her.

Clint’s mind dissolved into a blur, unable to focus on anything outside of heat and lust and the sting of her fingernails and the way her thighs clamped around him. He was teetering close to the edge but he desperately tried to keep his rhythm, because damned if he was coming before her.

Finally he felt her stiffen, her teeth scraping his shoulder as she came silently, holding her slick body against him. That was all it took to make him fall, pleasure crashing through him like a wave as he buried his face in her neck.

Clint pressed his lips to her skin as his orgasm receded, leaving him aware of his aching arms and the sweat cooling on his back. Reluctantly he let his arms fall and looked up to Natasha.

Her skin was flushed, her blue eyes bright. “Well,” she sighed. “That was fun.”

He laughed as he rested his forehead against hers, still catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Clint was about to kiss her when he felt her hand in the centre of his chest, gently but firmly pushing him back. “Breakfast.”

Her reaction stung a little, but he tried not to let it show on his face. “Right,” he said, stepping away from her and doing up his jeans.

Natasha slid gracefully off of the counter, bending to pull on her panties before putting on her abandoned t-shirt. “Toast?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said as he washed his hands, then moved to sit down at the table.

“Good, ‘cause I haven’t got anything else.” Natasha opened one of the cabinets above the counter, taking down a jar and two mugs before shoving two slices of bread into the toaster. Clint watched as she placed a tea bag in each mug and poured steaming water over them.

The bread popped up from the toaster and Natasha put the slices onto plates before handing him a mug. It was creamy white with a cartoon of a black widow spider on one side. “Cute,” Clint said.

“In-joke with Maria,” she replied, sipping her tea. Her mug was black with a Russian phrase in red, and Clint resisted the urge to ask what it meant. Instead he added three spoonfuls of sugar to his tea and snorted when he saw Natasha grimace.

“What? I don’t usually drink tea.”

“I can see that.” She wrinkled her nose and Clint wanted to kiss her again but he didn’t know if he was allowed. He finished his tea in a few large gulps and then polished off the slice of toast in front of him.

“I should get going,” he said reluctantly, pushing his chair back.

Natasha nodded, placing her mug back down onto the table and standing. Clint found the rest of his clothes in her bedroom and returned to find her standing beside the front door, one hand on the frame, the other at her side.

He wasn’t a stranger to one-night stands and he suspected she wasn’t either, so he knew how this worked. Fuck it, he had to take the chance. “Not to be clingy and uncool, but can I see you again?”

Natasha gave him a small smile he couldn’t read, and she pressed a feather light kiss to his cheek. “I’m very busy the next few days. But I’ll call you. I will.” 

* * *

Clint entered the station to find Sam leaning against the wall in the hall, clutching a steaming cup of coffee. He nodded as Clint approached. “Hey. You look like you slept less than I did.”

“Got held up.”

“Oh, really.” Sam looked Clint up and down with a knowing grin. “The cute redhead, right?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Good thing you’re not a gentleman.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder but didn’t inquire further. “C’mon. We’ve got work to do.”

Clint nodded, but started to walk past Sam down the hall. “I’ll see you in there, got to clean up some stuff.”

Sam called after him. “Man, you’re not even being subtle.”

Clint flipped him off and headed for the locker room. Once there he changed into a spare shirt and brushed his teeth, grateful for the toiletry bag Bobbi had given him years ago when he first entered the force. But thinking about his ex-wife barely an hour after being with another woman seemed crass towards both, so he rinsed and packed the bag away as quickly as he could. A splash of water on his face and he was awake, mostly.

The bullpen was the usual hive of activity, buzzing with telephones and raised voices and smelling slightly of cheap coffee and sweat. Clint waved hello to Sam and sat down heavily at his desk and flipped open one of the files in front of him. The pieces were finally coming together. He tried to concentrate on the case instead of working over things with Natasha in his head. As always he sunk into his work easily enough. The ability to focus had never been his problem. It was everything else in life that kept falling apart on him.

He didn’t know how long he had been reading when someone slapped a yellow post-it note down on the report in front him. He looked up and found himself face to face with Detective May.

“Hey,” she said, working her dark hair into a bun. “Another anonymous tip for you. Could be something.”

“Thanks. Are we friends again?”

“Don’t get comfortable, Barton. You still owe me new elastic bands.”

“In my defence, I was really bored and flicking stuff at people is funny?” Clint shrugged. Across the desks, Sam was sniggering into his coffee.

May frowned. “You worry me sometimes.”

Clint gave her his best shit-eating smirk and picked up the phone. A short conversation later, he slammed down the receiver, making Sam look up in surprise. “Yelena Belova’s story checks out. Loki’s in with Petrov; he’s using small businesses as a money laundering front.”

Sam set his jaw. “Let’s move on him.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! Thanks so much for all your support for this fic in 2013, and here's to 2014! 
> 
> Thanks to Enigma731 for the beta. Time to check in with Carol and Jessica.

Jessica flicked through the channels on her TV. Rerun of Friends. Flick. Audrey Hepburn singing ‘Moon River.’ Flick. She tried to watch five minutes of Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, but Chewbacca reminded her of Carol’s cat Chewie, which reminded her of Carol, and she wanted to throw the remote at the wall.

Biting back her frustration, Jessica turned off the TV. Ice cream. She needed ice cream and Pride and Prejudice, and fast.

She was halfway to her bedroom when there was a knock on her front door. Jessica frowned and approached the door with caution. She really needed to move into a building with proper security.

“Jess, it’s Carol. Can we talk?”

Was it childish to refuse? It had to happen sooner or later, and avoiding each other at work every day was not a long-term solution. Jessica cursed her lack of social skills, quickly checked her hair in the hall mirror and smoothed down her t-shirt. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door.

Carol was wearing a floaty white blouse over dark jeans, her short hair free of gel so it framed her face. She held a yellow cake box in her hands. “Hey,” she said softly, holding the cake box out so Jessica could see the Roost’s logo. “I brought pie as a peace offering?”

Jessica folded her arms. “What kind of pie?”

“Cherry. Still warm.”

“Come in.”

Carol stepped over the threshold. Once inside she stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, box balanced on her hands, until Jessica finally thought to clear a space on the coffee table.

Carol set down the pie, but did not sit. “I’m sorry for the way I acted,” she said, not meeting Jessica’s eyes but not looking away either.

Jessica let out a sigh to try and lessen the ache in her chest. “No, I am. I bit your head off.”

“Not completely. Mild neck severage, maybe.”

Before, this would have been Jessica’s cue to make a crack about being part spider or praying mantis, but now all she could manage was a wobbly smile that she knew was not in the least convincing. “Well, I’m glad that’s sorted.”

“Jessica.” Carol ran a hand through her hair, leaving it in spikes. “I’m not good at this, okay? But I want to give this a try. Us. Give us a try.”

The ache in Jessica’s chest jolted. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, unable to decide whether to step forward or back. She stayed rooted on the spot instead, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice. “You have commitment issues and I have trust issues. It’s kind of a perfect storm.”

“I know. I don’t think it will be easy? But I’ll take the risk if you will.” Carol gestured helplessly. “Look, I can’t guarantee I won’t fuck up. But I’ll try. I will.”

“What if that’s not a risk I can take?” Jessica said softly, not sure if Carol could hear.

Carol leaned towards her, frowning. “Then… fuck, Jess, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jessica bit her lip. “I’ll take it.”

Carol blinked. “What?”

“The risk.” Jessica drew a deep breath and finally stepped up to Carol. “Fuck everything else,” she whispered, meeting Carol’s eyes. “I want this. I want _you._ ”

She saw Carol’s eyes widen. “Okay. Then… wow.” A grin broke across Carol’s face, and Jessica felt herself smile back.

“Yeah.” She was giddy, nervous, even her hands coming up to her face and then falling back down to her sides, unable decide what to do with them. It was like the first time they woke up together in Carol’s room, grinning at each other across a space that was both close and impossibly wide all at once. Only this time, Jessica leaned forward, holding her breath, and ghosted her lips across Carol’s mouth.

Carol made a tiny sound against Jessica’s lips. It might have been a whimper, if Jessica believed Carol capable of such a thing. Then Carol’s hands found Jessica’s waist, and their kiss deepened, familiar and yet new.

Jessica wrapped her arms around Carol’s neck as they broke apart, and Carol rested her forehead against hers. “So, um. Pie? Movies? I think there’s a Firefly marathon on.”

“We could watch TV. Or…” Jessica kissed Carol again, this time long and dirty, letting Carol know just how much she had missed her.

“Okay, message received,” Carol said, laughing as she pressed small, quick kisses to Jessica’s lips.

Wordlessly, Jessica took Carol’s hand and led her to the bedroom.

The moment they both set foot in the room it occurred to Jessica that they had never had sex in her bedroom before. They always ended up at Carol’s place, and Jessica’s red and yellow patterned bedspread and the variety of throw pillows suddenly seemed incredibly embarrassing. Her gaze fell from the bedspread to the dirty clothes strewn over the carpet, and from there to the abandoned chocolate wrappers under the bed. Fuck. Should she turn back the covers? Dim the lights? Was it too late to run and hide?

Carol must have sensed Jessica’s hesitation, because she took Jessica’s hand and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Want to kiss me?” she said, her hand coaxing Jessica forward until Jessica stood between Carol’s legs.

Jessica took Carol up on the invitation because she wasn’t sure she could find the words to describe how much she wanted. Carol seemed to get the message anyway, because she slipped her arms around Jessica’s hips as they kissed, drawing Jessica down onto the bed.

Jessica met Carol’s gaze and held it for a moment, still marvelling that this was really happening. The room felt too bright, too garish, so she rolled onto her side, scrabbling for the switch on her bedside light. The cord slipped out of her hands and then Carol’s hand came into Jessica’s field of vision, covering her own and switching off the light. The room dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of the fairy lights tied around the iron bed frame.

“Oh,” Carol breathed, reaching up to brush one of the tiny lights. “These are pretty.”

“They were on sale,” Jessica said. She had never felt quite this shy during their previous encounters. She hoped she wasn’t blushing.

Carol placed a hand on Jessica’s cheek and leaned in to kiss her. “I like them.” Swiftly, she rolled them over so that she straddled Jessica’s hips. Jessica’s breath escaped in a rush, and she arched so that Carol could slip her shirt over her head.

It took a bit of contortion to take off her bra and let it fall to the floor, but then her upper body was finally bare and Carol’s lips and tongue were on Jessica’s breasts, licking and kissing, her palms kneading the soft flesh until Jessica’s breath came in small, shivery gasps.

“Carol, I need…”

Carol sat up so quickly Jessica felt a rush of air against her skin. Carol took her shirt and bra off with record speed, then lay back down again to press their bare skin together. “Oh fuck, I’ve missed this,” Carol groaned. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jessica said, kissing Carol again. “I missed you too.”

Carol slipped her thigh in between Jessica’s and Jessica shivered at the sensation. “Oh god, that’s…” She reached for the button on Carol’s jeans, but Carol slapped her hand away.

“Uh uh. I’m supposed to be making things up to you, remember? Relax. This is about you.” She kissed down Jessica’s neck, lingering on her shoulders, before finally circling her tongue around Jessica’ nipple.

“Don’t start that.” Jessica rolled over until Carol was beneath her. “We’re going to do this right.” She bent to kiss Carol’s mouth, flicking her tongue between Carol’s lips. “This is about us.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Wow, I can't believe I'm nearing the end of this fic. Thanks so much for your support.
> 
> And thanks to Enigma731 for the beta.

After a lot of planning and far too much paperwork, the art show was finally in full swing.

Maria tried not to hover too much beside the refreshments table, but it did provide the best vantage point to observe the people milling about between the paintings.

Across the room Steve caught her eye. He waved, turned and promptly bumped into an elderly woman with pink hair. Maria almost grinned as he apologised profusely and then tried to navigate between people. Steve got stuck, turned about, and apologised some more to the people around him, unable to cross the room successfully even though he was a good head taller than most of the other attendees. When he was cornered by a man in tight pants and black-rimmed glasses, he shot a helpless an apologetic smile in Maria’s direction and she gave up on talking to him for the afternoon.

To Maria’s surprise, Steve and Hipster Boy were joined by Natasha. She engaged Hipster Boy in animated conversation which he returned so enthusiastically it gave Steve the opportunity to slip away.

“Hi,” Maria said when he reached the table. “You made it across the room. I’m impressed”

“I’m as surprised as you. Art folks are a friendly lot.”

“You seem to have a lot of friends here.”

“This is a great opportunity for them to showcase their work. Plus I might’ve encouraged some colleagues to come along.” Steve’s smile was sheepish.

“I’m glad you did, the turnout is better than I expected.”

“I’m happy to help.” Steve waved at someone across the room who was trying to get his attention. “Looks like I’m being summoned. But, err… how about a drink after the show?”

Maria laughed to herself. “Definitely.”

* * *

Natasha politely excused herself from a debate about found object art; certain entire continents had drifted during the discussion. She could hold her own in most visual art conversations, but it was not and would never be her first love.

She flashed the surrounding customers a brilliant smile and made straight for the refreshment table. Time for something sweet and preferably crumbly. Fuck her lipstick; it would be a good reason to leave the room anyway. Natasha grabbed a paper plate and began loading it with pastry. Satisfied, she turned and came face to face with Clint.

“I thought you’d be at work,” she said to cover her surprise.

Clint shrugged. He didn’t move further into her space, but he did not step back either. “It’s my day off. I saw I’d missed your call, and I tried to call back but then you didn’t answer, so I thought I’d spare us the phone tag.” He finished off with the wolf grin she’d come to know well.

Natasha put her plate back down on the table. “That’s very considerate of you,” she said, trying to keep her voice at a friendly neutral. This was an unexpected development. It had been almost a relief when Clint hadn’t answered her call; it was a way of settling things at least. Clint appearing in person was a new variable, one she wasn’t sure how to deal with.

“I didn’t want you to think silence was my answer,” Clint went on. He shifted his weight forward, leaning towards her like he wanted to give her a hug, but then moved back when she didn’t respond.

“What is your answer, then?”

“I don’t know. I guess… fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Depends on what you were asking.”

Natasha tried to come up with a response that didn’t seem flippant or dismissive, because she could see Clint’s face start to fall. For a cop he really did wear his heart out for all to see.

She was about to answer when behind her a woman’s voice interrupted. “Excuse me, mind if I come through?”

The voice belonged to Bobbi from the Roost, and she was carrying a tray heavily laden with mini quiches. “Sorry,” she continued, “food emergency.”

Natasha stepped out of the way and Bobbi bustled past, carefully setting the tray on the table with a look of concentration. Mission accomplished, she turned back to Natasha as if she was about to walk past again, but then stopped. “Clint!” she said. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Yeah… day off, thought I might as well.”

Bobbi raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realise you were such an art fan.”

Clint dropped his eyes to the floor, mumbling, “Uh, Natasha, Bobbi is my…”

“He’s trying to say I’m his ex without being awkward,” Bobbi broke in. “He’s failing.” She nodded at Natasha. “Lady Grey tea, no sugar, right?”

Natasha schooled her face to blankness. Of all the things she expected to happen that day, discovering that Clint’s ex-wife was someone she had known for years was not one of them. Fortunately if there was one thing she was good at, it was adaptation. “That’s it.”

Bobbi shook her hand with a warm smile, radiating bubbly efficiency. “I always like talking to another tea fiend.”

“Since when do you like tea?” Clint asked before Natasha could respond.

“I’m a woman of mystery, Clint. Enjoy the show, I’ve got croissants to replenish.” She brushed past him, radiating bubbly efficiency.

Clint watched her go, then shook his head with a laugh. Finally he looked back at Natasha. “You mind if we talk outside?”

Natasha cast her eyes over the crowd. Maria was chatting to Steve, Carol was handling sales at the counter with Jessica and Kate was with a group of teenagers. Everything seemed under control for now. “Okay,” she sighed, and led him towards the back exit.

The night air in the alley was cool against her skin, and Natasha wished she had a jacket. Her heels clicked against the cement as she leant back against the brick wall, rubbing her arms to try to stay warm. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, watching as Clint looked up and down the alley.

“The other night,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I want to know where we stand.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, though she had a fair idea.

Clint exhaled slowly. “Look, sleeping with someone connected to a case isn’t the most ethical thing I’ve ever done, okay?”

Natasha’s temper flared. “So you don’t want me to go telling everyone we spent the whole night fucking? No argument here.”

“What? No,” Clint said, his voice rising, but then broke off. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He sounded deliberately calm, though Natasha wasn’t sure if it was for himself or for her. “I mean, was… was this a one-off?”

“Oh.” Natasha paused. “Do you want it to be?”

“No. Maybe? I’m not so good with the feelings thing.” He dropped his eyes, his expression difficult to make out in the faint light.

“I’m getting that,” Natasha observed dryly.

He shrugged, pacing back and forth. “One minute we’re flirting and then we slept together, and it was great, but… It’s like we missed a step, y’know?”

“What step? Clint, we’re adults who had consensual sex. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know that!” Clint snapped, turning sharply on his foot. He stopped and rubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry. I’ll go, okay? I should go.”

Natasha sighed with frustration. “There’s no need for that. I’m not asking you to go away.”

Clint blinked, standing awkwardly now that Natasha had interrupted his disappointed storming off. “Huh?”

She forced herself to speak the words. “I don’t want you to go away. Not unless you want to.”

“All right. I’ll stay for a bit.” He grinned shyly at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the faint light. “I actually do have to head off soon though. Can I call you once the case is closed?”

Natasha refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her smile back. “You can.” 

* * *

Kate picked up a glass of wine from the refreshments table and was about to raise it to her lips when Carol materialised in front of her.

“Don’t even think about it, kid,” Carol said, plucking the glass from Kate’s hands and disappearing into the crowd. Kate’s face burned.

Of course, Cassie would take that exact moment to appear. “Bobbi did that to me too,” she said sympathetically. “Want a Coke?”

Kate gave her a grateful look. “Please.”

Cassie leant down to pour some Coke into two plastic cups, her blonde braid falling over her shoulder. She was wearing a deep red dress that suited her perfectly in its simplicity. Kate’s choice of a pale pink floaty dress with a matching headband seemed like a good idea that morning, but now she felt like an overgrown kid playing dress up. Why did she always become awkward at the worst moments? Ah, the perils of being a teenager who covered up lingering insecurity with false bravado.

“I like your necklace.” Cassie said when she passed Kate a cup. “You look really pretty.”

Kate looked down at her pendant. She had almost forgotten she was wearing it, it was such a last minute addition. A gold bow crossed by an arrow. “Thanks. You look pretty too.” _Oh god, that’s asinine._ “Are you enjoying the show?” she asked quickly.

Cassie nodded, sipping her coke. “I like the art. I don’t usually go to these sorts of things. What about you?”

“I’ve been to a few,” Kate mumbled, not wanting to mention that gallery openings had been a regular feature of her upbringing.

Cassie smiled, but she seemed uncertain, casting her eyes about the room as if she expected some revelation to appear among the paintings. “Do you think this is going to help the shop out of trouble?”

“I hope so,” Kate said, shrugging. It annoyed her that even with the art show’s success, the fate of Adjectives Assemble and The Coffee Roost was still unclear thanks to the spectre of Loki. It didn’t help that Maria and Natasha were stoically tight-lipped about the whole thing. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final chapter of Adjectives Assemble! But fear not, there is still an epilogue to come.
> 
> Many thanks to Frea_O for the beta.

Maria believed in three things; good coffee, good literature and the importance of business connections. The second was her passion, the third ensured the second and the first was the source of life itself. Given those beliefs, it was mystifying that she hadn’t thought to invite Bobbi Morse over to her office before.

“I left Cassie in charge, so if she calls I’m going to have to head back,” Bobbi explained as she placed a cup of coffee on Maria’s desk. “Thought you might want this.”

“Thanks.” Maria lifted the cup, taking pleasure in the warmth seeping into her hands. She raised it to her lips, sipped, and closed her eyes while she savoured the hot liquid. “Now that is great coffee.

“Good to hear,” Bobbi said. “I’m trying out a new barista. This was her test cup.”

“Hire her,” Maria said quickly.

“I’m considering it. She’s your Kate’s roommate, by the way. Cassie and I got talking to her at the art show.”

“Thanks for helping out with that, by the way. In case I forgot to thank you already.”

“You’re welcome. It helped me out, I picked up a few catering contracts. What about you guys? Big success?”

“Big success,” Maria confirmed, taking another sip of coffee. It really was excellent, and she was about to say as much when she heard raised voices through her office door.

Bobbi tilted her head quizzically and Maria stood up from her chair to investigate. She’d had enough drama for one week. But before she could navigate around the piles of books by her desk, the office door burst open and Loki Odinson barged in, his jacket ruffled and hair in disarray, with all the fury of a enraged male egomaniac.

“You did this!” he demanded, his hand raised. The silky control of their earlier encounter some weeks ago was nowhere to be seen. “You couldn’t stand losing your sad little shop, could you?”

Fortunately, Maria was trained in dealing with enraged male egomaniacs. It brought her back to her childhood in Chicago, a time she didn’t like to think about, but it had equipped her with certain skills. She stood up straight, squaring her shoulders, and a strange calm came over her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coolly.

“You had to stick your nose into my business. It must have eaten away at you, knowing someone wanted to rip this place from your hands,” Loki snarled.

Bobbi leant her elbow on Maria’s desk and rested her cheek on her hand. “I thought he was supposed to be a smooth talker,” she drawled, glancing over at Loki with a bored expression. “Doesn’t seem like a silver tongue to me.”

If Maria hadn’t already decided to be friends with Bobbi Morse, those words sealed it. Loki’s face seemed to go even whiter, and the look he gave Bobbi was pure venom.

Maria reached for her phone and held it up like a weapon. “Mr Odinson, this is my private office. I did not give you permission to enter. Please leave, or I will call the police.”

Loki gave an oily laugh. “You think you can stop me? I am a giant of my trade, and I will not be outdone by--"

The door burst open a second time, revealing two men holding police badges. Maria recognised one of them as the detective Natasha introduced her to during the art show. The other man grabbed Loki by the arms. “Loki Odinson. I’m Detective Wilson, this is my partner, Detective Barton. You’re under arrest.”

Loki looked perplexed. Maria felt stunned. Bobbi whistled from her chair. “Wow. Great timing.”

“Loki Odinson. You are under arrest for money laundering, extortion and fraud.”

As Detective Barton read Loki his rights, Maria absolutely did not feel an urge to applaud. That was not a thing she did. But she folded her arms, just in case.

“Are the cuffs necessary?” Loki gritted out, wincing as Barton snapped the metal cuffs closed.

“Standard procedure.” Barton caught Bobbi’s eye and gave a small nod. Bobbi returned it; then gave Barton’s partner an appraising look. 

Loki’s jaw clenched as if he was steeling himself for a fight, but when Barton and Wilson grabbed him by either arm he straightened, held his head up and did not resist in one obvious last ditch attempt to make a dignified exit. Barton mumbled something that sounded like “Sorry for intruding, ma’am,” and just like that, the biggest threat to Adjectives Assemble was marched out the door in handcuffs.

Maria watched them go and slowly lowered herself back into her chair. Processing this would require more coffee. “Well,” she said. “I guess that solves one problem.”

“No kidding,” Bobbi agreed. “I’m glad I got to witness it.” She picked up her cup, examined its contents, and frowned. “Want another coffee?”

“You read my mind. But maybe later? I’m going to have a chat with my landlord.”

“Right now?” Bobbi asked as she stood, reaching over to grab Maria’s empty cup.

Maria nodded, determined. “Right now. With Odinson out of the picture, I think he might be more willing to renegotiate the rental contract. I can be very persuasive.”

Bobbi lifted the cups in salute. “I have no doubt.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and opened the office door. The moment she exited there was a scuffling sound and Carol’s voice saying a hasty apology.

“Really?” Maria heard Bobbi say. “Don’t you two have work to do?” 

Maria laughed as she picked up the phone. Everything was finally working out.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Enigma731 for the beta!

_Six months later._

Maria looked down at the text message she had just received. “Natasha’s coming,” she said.

Jessica was sitting across the small table with one foot placed firmly on the chair next to her, since space was hard to come by the crowded bar and any seats required defending to the death. She put her hand to her ear in the universal ‘I can’t hear you’ gesture, her drink threatening to spill over. “What?”

Maria raised her voice over the noise of the other patrons. “I said Natasha’s coming!”

“Oh!” Jessica practically yelled back. “I thought she was having dinner with her boyfriend.”

“Something must have come up.” Maria slipped her phone back into her purse and took out her wallet. “I’m getting another drink before the music starts. Want one?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Maria stood up and tried to make her way through the throng of people. Going to the Drunken Page bar after work on Friday nights had become something of a tradition over the last few months, ever since Carol’s roommate got a job as the bartender. Most nights the place wasn’t filled to bursting, but tonight was the monthly karaoke night, a fact Maria wished she remembered before deciding to come. She squeezed her way to the counter and managed to order and receive her bourbon on the rocks with only minor glares at male patrons who tried to strike up conversation. 

Maria made it back to the table in time to see Carol leaning over the back of a chair to give Jessica a kiss before heading in the direction of the karaoke stage. 

“Is Carol still going to sing?” Maria asked, carefully setting her glass down on a cardboard coaster. She sat down on the couch and put her handbag on the floor between her feet.

Jessica laughed. “Yes. I hope you brought ear plugs.”

Maria took an extra large gulp of her bourbon and regretted it when the liquid burned down her throat. Her phone buzzed again and Natasha’s name flashed on the screen. Maria looked up and spotted the redhead in question at the door, her phone held to her head.

“Is that Natasha?” Jess broke in. Before Maria could say anything, Jessica stood and waved her arms. “Hey, Nat! Over here!”

Natasha’s head flicked round and her eyebrow rose when she spotted Jessica, but she came over to their table all the same. She sat down heavily on Carol’s vacated chair, taking off her soft black beret and shaking out her curls as she unwound the scarf from her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from cold and she looked harried.

“Everything okay?” Maria asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Natasha sighed, tossing her phone into her handbag and zipping it closed. “Clint got called in to the station just before.”

“That’s the joy of dating a police officer,” Maria sympathised.

Jessica frowned, checking the time on her phone. “Weren’t you guys having dinner at six?”

Natasha glared at her, folding her arms. “We did.”

Maria spotted the exact moment Jessica put two and two together. “Just before… Ooooh, wow. Getting cock blocked by the NYPD would be so annoying.”

“It is,” Natasha gritted out between her teeth, an unnecessary statement given that she was practically radiating frustration.

Maria realised a cocktail was in order to calm the fierce beast that was horny, unfulfilled Natasha, and shoved her way over to the bar to get her one. When Maria returned, Cosmopolitan in hand, Natasha gave her a tight-lipped smile. 

“Thanks.”

Maria sat and patted Natasha’s knee. “You’re welcome.”

Natasha raised the cocktail glass to her lips and took a long drink. “Did I miss Carol singing?”

“No,” Jess grinned.

“Oh.” 

“Hey!” Jessica gave Natasha a small shove. “That’s my girlfriend you’re mocking.”

“You were the one who suggested ear plugs,” Maria reminded her as the music playing over the sound system died down. Maria groaned as a man in a worn Metallica t-shirt climbed onto the makeshift stage. 

He stepped up to the microphone and it made an awful screech. “All right, ladies and gentlemen!” the man announced, undeterred. “Put your hands together for our first karaoke contestant… Caaaarol!”

Carol bounded on to the stage, waving and whooping for good measure. She was wearing tight black leather jeans and that battered old leather jacket she loved so much. With the gelled hair Carol looked every bit the amateur rock star.

The music started as Carol took up the microphone, raised her arm, and launched into her karaoke standard, ‘Living on a Prayer.’ What she lacked in musical talent she made up for in enthusiasm, tossing her hair and belting out the lyrics, and it was hard not get swept up in the performance. Carol threw her head back and yelled the final chorus into the cheering crowd, adding in some air guitar on the last riff. Jessica gave her a standing ovation and Carol blew a kiss in her direction, which was, Maria had to admit, adorable.

Natasha clapped, shaking her head in what was either disbelief, admiration, or both. “I’ve got to hand it to her. She’s got guts.”

“That she has.” Maria watched as Carol bounded through the crowd to their table and gave Jessica a peck on the cheek. 

“You next, baby.”

Jess turned her head so she could kiss the corner of Carol’s mouth instead, her hand lingering on Carol’s cheek. “You’re kidding me, right?” she said, smiling all-too-sweetly.

Carol grinned broadly at her, unfazed. “You promised you’d sing if I sang.”

The two women seemed to be engaging in some sort of silent discussion. Maria looked from one to the other, wondering if the night was going to go sour. If Carol and Jessica started fighting, Natasha would likely take off and Maria would be left trying to mediate. Fortunately, Jessica dropped Carol’s gaze. “Fine. After I finish my drink.”

Carol waggled her eyebrows at her and pulled Jessica in for a one-armed hug. “Sure. I’m off to pee. Ladies.” She waved at Natasha and Maria and squeezed around a large man built like a footballer made of bricks.

Natasha turned her attention to Jessica. “You’re singing?”

Jess shrugged, her mouth twitching into a smile. “A promise is a promise.”

Natasha raised her glass in respect. “I’m glad I came out tonight.”

Maria chuckled to herself. Observing Carol and Jessica’s relationship was like watching a lesbian dramedy unfold. Cable TV had nothing on her employees’ love lives. “What are you two doing for Christmas?” she said when there was a lull in conversation. “Seeing family?”

Jess snorted derisively. “No way.”

“Nat?”

Natasha looked up from her drink. “I’m visiting family on Christmas Eve,” she said, in a tone that declared she had nothing more to say on the matter. Maria did not expect anything else from her; Natasha never spoke much about her background, only that her parents died when she was a child and she was raised by various relatives. 

Jessica turned to Maria. “Are you heading to Chicago?” 

“No, I told them I’ve got too much work,” Maria replied.

Next to her, Natasha caught her eye. “Ah.” She sipped her drink with one delicate eyebrow raised, as if that said everything. “And Steve?”

“We’re going out for dinner on the 23rd,” Maria said offhandedly. She and Steve had agreed to take things slow, and slow did not include spending Christmas together. Not that he hadn’t offered. “Don’t even start, Nat,” she warned when she saw the look on Natasha’s face. “Are you spending the day with Carol, Jess?”

“No, she’s visiting family in Boston.” Jessica looked down at her hands, but Maria didn’t miss the hurt flitting across her face.

“What about you and Clint?” Maria asked Natasha quickly, to give Jessica a moment to collect herself. 

Natasha shrugged. “Clint’s on duty that day.”

Maria sat up straight as a thought occurred to her. “Drinks at my place in the afternoon?”

Jessica brightened instantly, leaning forward in her eagerness. “Will there be food?”

“I can make food,” Natasha offered, with a graceful rise and fall of her shoulders that Maria knew was her way of saying yes.

“Since when?” Jessica retorted.

Natasha shot a mock-scowl in Jessica’s direction. “I resent that, my pasta sauces are legendary. Besides, Bobbi’s been teaching me how to make pie.”

Jessica laughed. “Now that I have to see,” she said, as over on the stage the announcer struck up the screechy microphone again.

Maria raised her glass in a toast. “To the first Adjectives Assemble Christmas lunch. May there be pie.”

Natasha clinked her glass against Maria’s. “Amen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, the end of the line. I never thought a random text post I made on tumblr would lead to this! It's been an absolute blast, and I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> My eternal thanks goes to Enigma731 for the ever-patient beta reading, and to Frea_O for betaing as well. Also a big thank you to everyone on Livejournal and tumblr who listened to my freak-outs and held my hand. Last but definitely not least, a HUGE thank you to every single person who read this fic, left kudos, left a comment, bookmarked this fic, put it on alert, etc. It means the world to me. Thank you so, so much.


End file.
